


Your Hands Were Like Magic, Your Hands Were Like Gold

by gallantrejoinder, glasgowbones



Series: Vertigo [3]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Demisexual Dirk Gently, Demisexual character having sex jic that's not your thing, Demisexuality, Dirk vs his nemesis: A Dressing Gown, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, canon-typical accidentally porny towel, do not copy to another site, i mean in as much as you can misuse something passively, like i guess all that happened wow, misuse of holistic powers, sex is in the third chapter sorry lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-01-03 15:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallantrejoinder/pseuds/gallantrejoinder, https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgowbones/pseuds/glasgowbones
Summary: Todd knows he's got to talk to Farah about what's been going on. Unfortunately, the Universe has decided to never let them be in the same room without Dirk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All right, one thing before we go lads. We've been having issues with minors reading our explicit fics. Now, technically speaking, we cannot stop you doing that. But for the reference, this makes both of us very uncomfortable. I (gallantrejoinder) am a teacher, I very vehemently do not want any minors reading my explicit fanfiction, I interact with minors as a part of my job and it genuinely would horrify me if any minor were to be reading my explicit work. The explicit rating is there for a reason. Please, please don't ignore it - or if you're going to, at least don't tell us about it!
> 
> This fic will make a lot more sense if you've read [Give Me Love, Give Me Vertigo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20861927/) and [Yes, I Am Ill, Cannot Get My Balance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010367/) first.

Farah corners Todd the day after – well, what Todd is generously calling a momentary lapse in his sanity, which had led to a horrifying loss of self-control while alone in his room. 

It’s not that Farah _ deliberately _ tries to intimidate Todd vis-à-vis said cornering, but she does own many guns and know many forms of hand-to-hand combat, so Farah is automatically somebody who inspires a lot of fear (until she opens her mouth and softest voice in the world comes out). Vastly more important than this, however, is the unfortunate reality that Farah _ knows _ Todd. Which means she knows exactly how to deal with him being cagey about something.

Namely: she asks for his help with groceries. Thus separating Todd from Dirk, putting Todd in the inevitably disarming environment of a parked car, and leaving him completely vulnerable to platonic emotional support.

“I’m not gonna make you talk about it,” she begins, before locking the doors.

Oh god. She’s going straight for the jugular.

“But I’m – worried. I haven’t seen you acting this weird since we were on the road.” Farah turns to look across the console at him, while Todd tries to look anywhere else. “At least not while we don’t have a case on. Which we don’t, obviously. So.”

Todd presses his mouth into a tight line, trying to think of something to say. He can hardly admit to the fact that his brain’s been flicking the light-switch of acknowledgement regarding his attraction to Dirk on and off for a week, screeching obscenities about what a creep he is while simultaneously making him obsess over every single sensation of Dirk’s body, sensations _ neither _of them entirely consented to at the time, and which he cannot allow himself to indulge in.

Not to mention how stupidly in love he’s been since long before the incident itself.

“Todd?”

Words. He’s gotta - think of something, anything to say, before she -

“Todd, listen, okay? I care about you.”

Too late.

“And I’m your friend. And I’m - I’m Dirk’s friend too.”

_ Abort mission_.

“And I don’t wanna imply - I mean, it’s not … _ If _this has something to do with Dirk …”

“It doesn’t,” Todd interrupts, before she can figure it out. Farah’s a really good detective, it’s only a matter of time until she does, but any delay is a blessing. “I - it’s - there’s nothing going on. With me and Dirk, I mean.”

Farah lets the silence between them stretch on for a long moment, evidently doubtful but unwilling to confront him about it. Todd feels a stab of guilt deep in his stomach.

“Okay, well,” Farah continues slowly, “If it’s not Dirk - or if it’s not - a case … then …?”

Todd can feel the panic setting in. He needs her not to make him confront this. Not right now, at least. Not when he’s fresh off completely losing control. Not when acknowledging what led him to that moment last night means unscrewing the cap of a secret he’s kept bottled in the most hidden corner of the cellar of his heart, like stupidly expensive wine he was saving it for a special occasion. For some impossible daydream.

“It’s not anything, Farah,” he says tightly. “Okay? Just - can you just leave it alone, please?”

Farah draws back slightly - it takes Todd a moment to realise she was even leaning in. There’s a hurt look on her face, and the stab of guilt comes back, sharper than before.

Great. Fantastic. Now he’s alienated Farah, the one person who he probably could have talked to about this.

She turns to unlock her door.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out quickly. Her hand stills on the handle.

She sighs. “I know that it’s hard for you to - just ... um. I’m here. Whenever you’re ready. Okay?”

“Okay,” Todd says softly.

But truth be told, he doesn’t know that he’ll ever be.

~

Todd is an idiot for not talking to Farah.

At least, he’s an idiot for not doing it when she actually gave him the opportunity to. There is no longer a subtle, _ normal _ way for him to bring up the fact that he’s in love with Dirk and it’s killing him and also he might have started fantasising about him in a definitely sexual way but that’s neither here nor there because he’s not even sure Dirk’s into - that. Him. _ Anything_. 

Not that he’d actually bring the last part of that up, but that part specifically is definitely not helping the situation.

The person he really wants to talk to is Amanda. Since he told the truth about everything, since she went on the road, since Wendimoor - there isn’t anything he doesn’t tell her anymore. She’s always gonna be his little sister, but she’s … grown up a lot. He doesn’t have to protect her anymore. And that means that for the last year or so, they’ve actually been able to talk about things, real things, when she’s in town.

But she’s not in town right now. And getting in contact with the Rowdies is difficult at the best of times, let alone when they’re somewhere in the Canadian wilderness going after some … oil barons, or something. They’d been kinda fuzzy on the details when Amanda called last month.

So if Todd wants to talk to someone, Amanda’s out. Dirk _ obviously _isn’t an option. That leaves Farah. Who knows him, who kept him sane for three months on the road while Dirk was in Blackwing, and who understands better than anyone what it’s like to be in constant alienation of your own heart.

The problem _ is, _ he can’t seem to get Farah alone.

It’s actually becoming a problem. Usually there’s at least a few times a week that Todd can expect Farah to be free to talk - after her boxing sessions, while they’re cleaning the dishes after dinner, the rare occasions when Todd gets up early for breakfast. But for some reason - maybe even a Universe reason, Todd can never be sure nowadays - he just can’t seem to get Farah alone, in a room, and able to talk.

Or to be more specific - he can’t seem to get Farah in a room without _ Dirk_.

No matter what Todd tries, Dirk’s there. And usually Todd enjoys spending time with his two best friends, but it’s disconcerting to realise that literally all of his spare time appears to be spent with the two of them in the same room. Well - maybe it hasn’t always been like this? Maybe he’s imagining it. But it sure seems like Dirk’s suddenly spending a lot more time with the two of them. Todd can’t remember the last time they spent this much time together as a trio.

One night, at the exact second that Todd is about to open his mouth and ask Farah if she’d mind talking about something that’s been on his mind, no big deal, just need to get it off my chest - Dirk comes skidding into the office on lemon-coloured, dragon print socks.

He freezes at the sight of them, like he hadn’t been expecting both of them to be in here. His eyes flick between the two of them in confusion.

“Farah,” he says, pausing. “And Todd! Also. Is here.”

“... Yeah?” Farah looks at Dirk questioningly.

Todd remains silent, busy concentrating very hard on not letting out a groan of frustration.

“That’s. Fantastic!” Dirk smiles in the manner of a fast food employee who’s just seen a customer enter ten minutes before closing. “I was just - saying to myself, an evening with Farah and Todd is ... even indeed!”

And then he plops himself down on the nearest desk, unmoving for the rest of the night.

(Well, unmoving in a manner of speaking. Dirk’s never still for long. But - Todd, unfortunately, kinda loves that about him.)

At one point, a few days later, Todd just ends up staring up at his ceiling at midnight, unable to sleep.

He’s gotta talk to her about this. He feels like he’s being driven slowly insane, like there’s this whirlpool inside him that just keeps spiralling downwards, sucking him down into the depths of … fuck knows what. But it’s not good for him, emotional turmoil. Anxiety. Stress. He’s been living with the Pararibulitis long enough now to have figured out that his attacks tend to be more emotion-driven than Amanda’s were. She was always more heavily impacted by external sensations, though the agoraphobia definitely played its part. Todd’s brain seems to be stuck on what’s happening internally.

So. He _ has _to get this out. For the sake of his fucking health.

Okay, no, this is ridiculous. He’s going to tell her. 

… He’s going to tell her _ now_. 

_ Why not? She said any time_. And they’re friends. She’s literally right down the hall, barely three rooms away. What the hell is he waiting for?

He slides out of bed, feeling jittery, like he’s readying for a fight. He guesses he is, in a way - with his own psyche. The idea of fighting _ against _the urge to press down everything he’s feeling is always terrifying, but this particular set of feelings is especially … delicate. 

_ Farah will listen. She’s not gonna fucking _ hurt _ you, idiot_, Todd tells himself. He takes a deep breath and pulls his bedroom door open, stepping outside -

Only to find Dirk standing in the middle of the hallway.

Of _ course _he’s there. Really, Todd should have predicted this. It’s midnight and they’re all in their rooms and the second Todd decides to leave, Dirk does too. It’s practically a given at this point.

Todd swallows down his rising hysteria and tries to think of something to say to Dirk, who freezes at the sight of him. He hasn’t turned the hall light on; he’s just standing there in the dark outside his open bedroom door.

“Todd!” Dirk’s voice is unnervingly chipper. “You’re up!”

Todd opens his mouth to speak, but a weird squeak comes out. Feeling his insides shriveling, he clears his throat. “Um, yeah, I - couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, well, I - _ was _.. sleeping?” Dirk’s face does something weird.

Todd squints at him. “But now you’re … not.”

“No, I’m ... sleepwalking!” Dirk looks pleased for a second, before his face falls. “Oh, no, that’s a lie. I’m - going to the bathroom!” That seems to restore the grin.

Todd stares a little more.

Dirk’s ... facing the direction of Farah’s room. Away from his own. And definitely _ not _facing the bathroom.

“It’s - behind you?”

Dirk’s grin becomes somewhat manic. “Right! Yes, _ obviously_, Todd, I was just - I got lost. In the dark. I couldn’t see. Because of all the … dark.”

There’s another moment of awful, endless silence. Todd really wishes he could think of something to say that isn’t ‘I think I’m in love with you and being around you right now is literally making me lose my mind.’ But his brain isn’t in a cooperative mood right now.

“Anyway,” Dirk says, with a piercing inhalation, “Good chat! Off to bed now, fight the bedbugs and all that, good-night-Todd!” With that, Dirk hurries back to his room, closing the door firmly. A little too firmly, if the faint _ ‘shit’ _from behind it is anything to go by.

Todd hesitates for only a moment in his doorway before retreating. There is no way he’s going back out there now. _ No _fucking way. Knowing his luck he’ll definitely run into Dirk again, and there is absolutely no chance his poor feeble brain will survive another encounter.

He goes back to bed. He ignores the vague aching sensation in his chest, and wishes he could work up the nerve to try talking to Farah again.

He doesn’t sleep for another hour.

~

Next Sunday dawns bright and early, but Todd fully intends to sleep half the day away, having had an attack in the middle of the night which had seen him up until three. It hadn’t been a particularly bad attack. Only lasted a minute or so before he got his meds down, and one of the easier-to-stomach ones - stigmata of one hand, which doesn’t even make sense, he’s Jewish. But it’s hard to sleep after an attack regardless of how severe it is, so he’s looking forward to catching up this morning.

He finds himself drifting in and out of consciousness, simultaneously lulled into calm and prodded awake by the sounds of Farah and Dirk down in the kitchen, talking about … something or other.

“ … gonna go get coffee?” That sounds like Dirk. Something twangs vaguely in the back of Todd’s mind, something important.

There’s some mumbling he doesn’t catch. Then -

“... take a shower, okay?” Farah’s voice. Another sleepy prod to the back of his mind. Farah’s staying home.

“Okay!” Dirk mumbles something else that Todd doesn’t quite catch. “... back soon!”

There are sounds of movement in the kitchen, and someone makes their way down the hall and into the bathroom. Todd hears the apartment door open and close. Dirk’s headed out. That’s nice. There’ll be fresh coffee when Todd wakes up.

… Wait, no. _ Dirk _ is headed _ out_. Which means that the apartment is empty apart from Todd and Farah, which means Todd _ finally has a chance to talk to her_.

He’s awake and sitting up in seconds.

He pulls on a shirt (the attack had left him without one, since he was worried the sensory input might aggravate his skin so soon after), and leaps out of bed. If Dirk’s out to get coffee from their usual place, that gives him a solid half-hour to talk to Farah, but that’s only assuming nothing goes wrong and Dirk doesn’t come back early. So he’s gotta do this now.

In his haste he fairly flies out his bedroom door, coming to a sudden halt in front of the bathroom, right next to his. The door is closed, but he can hear Farah moving inside - it sounds like she’s pulling something out of the cupboard underneath the sink.

He knocks, but doesn’t give her time to answer. 

“Farah? Listen, I - um. Okay, so.” His voice is shaking, and he forces himself to take a breath, “I know I kinda snapped at you the other day, and I'm really sorry, and - you were right. You were. I've been weird. I _ know _I've been weird.

“And I think - no, okay, I _ know _I need to talk about it. I feel like I’m going crazy. Farah, just. If you don't want to get involved, that's fine, and stop me whenever. But if you're still okay to listen, just - just let me get it all out first before you say anything. Because I've been sitting on this a really long time, and I think it's actually easier to do this without seeing your face.” He pauses for a second. “So, um. If you don't want to hear this, stop me now?”

There’s no answer, only silence, so Todd takes that as the green light to continue. Thank god for Farah.

He puts a hand against the door, bracing himself, and taking a breath.

“Okay, um. Thank you. So you've ... I think you've worked this much out already, but it is. About. Dirk.” Just saying the words feels like he’s flaying himself, but also, strangely, like he’s slowly getting lighter. 

“Uh. Basically, I just … kind of … have a thing for him?” He cringes at himself. “Ugh, no. That makes it sound so - juvenile. It’s not just a thing. Like, I'm full on ... I have? _ Feelings_? You know?” 

Farah doesn’t say anything. Todd squeezes his eyes shut. _ No, come on. Say what you actually mean, idiot_.

“I ... I love Dirk.” A breathless almost-laugh is startled out of him at the words. He’s never said it out loud before. “Like, really, _ really_, bad, Farah. I don't even know what to _ do_. And since that whole thing in the hotel room ... I know I looked like I was unconscious, but I wasn’t completely out of it, I could still feel …” He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. Both because it embarrasses him, and because it feels private, like something that belongs as much to Dirk as to him.

“Look, you probably get the picture. I just - can’t stop thinking about it, how it felt to -” He cuts himself off. “To be totally honest it’s ... It didn’t just start _ then_, the - um … I’ve felt like this about Dirk since … forever. It’s just, obviously, having him lying on top of me made that all a lot more, uh … you know?” He laughs nervously.

This is excruciating.

“I feel so weird about it, because I _ know _he just sees me as a friend, and …” 

Move on, _ move on_. 

“I’m … a real fucking creep, aren’t I? Don’t answer that. Uh. But I don’t know how to stop … everything. I don’t think I _ can _ stop feeling like this.” He swallows heavily. “Honestly, I don’t … think I _ want _to stop. The love, I mean. All of it.”

And that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? He doesn’t want to stop. Not really. He thought acknowledging his feelings would be the end of it, but … He should know better by now. Knowing he loves Dirk, and admitting it to someone else, those are two very different things. Telling Farah the truth feels like flying and falling all at once, the ground rushing up to meet him, but - not just yet. 

He imagines that hitting the ground, in this metaphor, means telling Dirk - or at least, Dirk finding out somehow. At least he doesn’t have to worry about that right now.

The prolonged silence from behind the bathroom door has been going on for a disconcertingly long time now. Todd feels the anxiety threaten to close over his chest once more.

“Farah?” He attempts an awkward laugh. “You can … you can talk now. You, um… I know you probably think I’ve been really creepy and Dirk’s your friend too and … Can you just say _ something_, please?”

Still no answer. Todd focuses on trying to breathe evenly.

“Farah? Are you okay?” Wait - she _ is _ in the bathroom. “Oh, god, is this a _ really _bad time or something?”

_“N- nooo! Aaaaall is well!” _

That high-pitched voice is absolutely not the voice of Farah Black. 

It takes Todd several seconds to piece together what’s happened, but when he does, he experiences what is probably best described as an out-of-body dissociative episode.

The door opens just a crack. 

Dirk’s face appears within it.

“Oh,” Todd says faintly. 

Dirk grimaces, but it’s an odd expression, like he’s trying to repress an emotion altogether different from that of sincere embarrassment. “Now, Todd,” he says, nervously, “You _ really _musn’t be angry.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long ago, two authors started this intending it to be short. But then, everything changed when the executive dysfunction attacked. Only the co-author, foolish dandy that he was, could finish it. But when the fic needed him most, he vanished.  
A hundred years passed, and first author prodded the second author back to work. And though his smut-bending ambition was great, he needed a lot of determination to carry him through before he was ready to finish anything.
> 
> Real talk: I hyperfocused on bullet-journalling for a month, took a holiday for December, and tried to clean my house in January. October doesn’t exist. Anyway I’m back and here is the chapter plus interest, my most sincere apologies for the inconvenience.
> 
> Only content warnings are for secondhand embarrassment but in this chapter they're just the same thing as the first.

Ever since the night Todd caught him coming out of the bathroom, Dirk has been meaning to speak to Farah. It seems that, having gone through the painful breaking point of deciding that he _wants_ to speak to her, it’s now unbearable not doing so at once. The resolution he made in the bathroom has stuck: that he cannot do this any longer, that he can’t shoulder the weight of it alone, he _needs_ to talk to one of his best friends about it. And Todd, for obvious reasons, is out of the question.

But it seems that Fate is trying to fart in his face yet again, because as soon as Dirk is resolved to confess to Farah, it’s suddenly maddeningly impossible to get her alone. Farah, who not so long ago had been all but nagging Dirk to talk to her, has apparently decided to let him be and is no longer seeking him out. And to make matters worse, _Todd is always around_.

Maybe this entire affair has just driven Dirk closer to crazy, but he could have sworn that in the past there were frequent occasions when the three of them spent time in pairs. He has not-so-distant memories of existing in the same room one-on-one with either Todd or Farah while the other was absent. Yes, obviously they were all friends and co-workers, they lived together and spent most of their time together, but they were also all three accustomed to being alone in their own ways, and Dirk was sure that there had been times when he and Farah would be working a case alone for a day while Todd was meeting up with Amanda, or when Dirk and Farah would read separately in the living room while Todd was out for groceries – or when Farah would attempt for the fifth time to teach Dirk how to make pancakes while Todd pointedly avoided the kitchen. Farah and Todd used to spend their fair share of time together too, Dirk is sure, because although Todd is often late to breakfast compared to Farah ‘Six-Thirty-AM-Sharp’ Black, Dirk is often late to _lunch_ on days off.

It’s not that Dirk hasn’t been trying to facilitate a Dirk-and-Farah hang-out session. It feels like he’s been doing nothing _but_ trying to get Farah alone, only to be intercepted at the last minute by the object of the discussion himself. If Dirk tries to get up early and meet Farah at breakfast, he’ll drag himself half-asleep out of his room only to find Todd literally five steps ahead of him, already reaching Farah at the kitchen bench. If Dirk asks Farah to come and try that new tea place with him, Todd will pipe up that he’s coming too, there’s a coffee place near there that _he_ wants to show Farah. One night when Dirk is halfway through undressing, he realises that Farah is probably alone sorting through papers in the office. He throws his shirt back on, nearly trips in his helter-skelter rush down the stairs, and skids into the office on his socks – _and Todd is already there_.

(That night Dirk sticks around out of sheer spite, determined to outlast Todd’s presence and speak to Farah alone before bed. In the end, of course, Farah is the one to retire first, and she leaves behind her two friends who avoid each other’s eyes, mumble separate, equally unintelligible things about how late it is, and slink off to their own bedrooms.)

Dirk even resorts to waiting until Todd has gone to bed, then trying to catch Farah in her room in the middle of the night, but no – _no_, Todd interrupts that too. No sooner does Dirk step out of his bedroom than Todd materialises in the shadows a few feet down the corridor like the Ghost of Sexual Fantasies Past, Present, and Future. At this point Dirk is feeling more than a little unnerved by Todd’s preternatural ability to intercept any and all attempts to talk to Farah, and he blurts out a lie about sleep-walking, feels guilty for lying to Todd, retracts the lie, lies instead about going to the bathroom thinking he can back-date-truth it by going to the bathroom later, panics, and flees back to his own bedroom. He barely even closes the door before he realises that he just made a lie out of the bathroom thing, curses, realises he cursed way too loudly, and curses again, only quieter this time.

Dirk is very aware that he’s probably acting oddly, even by the standards set by the manner in which he yanked Todd and Farah into his life. It’s hard not to be tense and jumpy, though, for a variety of reasons. He’s still haunted by the memory of Todd underneath him on that hotel bed, and since the night of his vivid wet dream about an alternate and much more physically satisfying version of those events, the gravitational pull he feels towards Todd has only gotten worse. He’s still plagued by that storm cloud, and all he has to show for the week or so that’s passed is the fact that he’s managed not to give into it again – though that in turn has meant that his libido has been itching at him, an insistent, guilty tug in his navel. He hasn’t been so at odds with it since he was a teenager.

Todd himself seems distant and harried, and Dirk’s attempts to get Farah alone have also highlighted the fact that he and Todd, at least, definitely used to spend more time together. Dirk’s been trying very hard not to think about that, because it really doesn’t help right now to think about all the times they’ve been alone together. ‘Times I’ve Been Alone With Todd’ is a subject that encompasses an awful lot, and right now all of it is painful; the significant moments and the insignificant, the death-defying and the domestic alike. The memories of Todd in his pyjamas, sharing a blanket with Dirk on the sofa in front of the television – they’re just as dangerous to linger on right now as all the times Todd pulled Dirk very close, very heatedly, to tell him what an asshole he was.

And if Dirk thinks about how much time they used to spend together, it’s much harder to ignore how little they spend with each other now. He and Todd haven’t been alone together for weeks, not properly, deliberately, not for any significant length of time. And maybe that … hasn’t been a coincidence. Along with the guilt and sexual frustration, Dirk is constantly prodded by the paranoia that somehow, Todd _knows_ about Dirk’s secret fantasies – that he’s worked it out and now he hates Dirk for it. It would explain why, even nearly a month after the incident at the hotel, Todd still won’t look Dirk in the eye. Or why whenever they’re left alone in a room together, Todd makes an excuse and escapes, as if being alone with Dirk is simply unbearable.

These are thoughts that don’t just prod and itch – they drive an ache into Dirk’s heart so terrible that he wonders, yet again, if this is what a Pararibulitis attack feels like. Dirk’s never had a knife to the heart, but he’s had arrows to the chest, and the feeling he gets when he considers that maybe Todd can’t stand to be in the same room as him, that he might even feel unsettled by him – that feels pretty much the same.

Dirk tries to tell himself that he’s imagining it. He knows that he’s more than a little prone to being rejection-sensitive, terrified that what little affection he’s managed to earn in his life will be suddenly and mercilessly retracted. These days, it’s usually an irrational fear. He tells himself not to project his own guilt onto Todd, that even if Todd had somehow worked out that Dirk has been lusting after him it would be a little regressive for Todd to gay-panic his way out of the friendship without even confronting Dirk about it. Todd has put up with Dirk dismantling his life, landing him on the FBI Wanted List for three months, and quite literally dragging him through various dimensions of time and space. It seems unlikely at this point that unrequited love and the occasional bout of secret wanking will be the deal-breaker.

Though then again, what if it is? What if it’s just too _much_, too creepy, too embarrassing – what if Todd is already looking for another job and another flat and another best friend and by this time next month Dirk will have lost him altogether?

And those are the thoughts that keep Dirk awake at night, tossing and turning, trying not to cry and eventually giving into crying, but trying to do it quietly. It seems he spends an unhealthy amount of energy these days on holding back and holding in, and he knows – he _knows_, it can’t be good. He feels so strained all the time, suspended like he was under the paralysis drug in the hotel; never moving but never falling either, trapped by the confines of his own body, excruciatingly aware of something that feels like it’s merely happening _to_ him. The raindrop, still teetering on the edge of spilling over, but still determined not to fall. The anxiety, the guilt, the frustration, the cracks so slowly creeping across his heart – it all builds and builds and still never breaks.

He has to talk to Farah. He _needs_ to talk to Farah, or he’s going to do something stupid, like confess everything to Todd one morning under the combined weights of pining, sexual frustration, and sheer sleep deprivation.

It’s after one of his more anxious, weepy nights that Dirk wakes the next morning far earlier than he wanted to, feeling like utter shit. He’s also feeling distinctly … uncomfortable, in that now-familiar, not-quite-hungry way, and the more physically-oriented parts of him want nothing more than to dive headfirst into revisiting certain imagined scenarios involving Todd and that walk-in wardrobe they’d gotten temporarily trapped in two months ago. The more emotionally-oriented parts of Dirk are too miserable to call up those memories, let alone act on them, while a third part – which is mostly comprised of rationality with an unhelpful dash of heartbreak – is reminding him that it’s going to be hard to do anything about the inconvenient horniness while successfully not thinking about Todd at all.

Once again, Dirk can only come to one conclusion: that he isn’t sure how much longer he can keep this up.

He lies shiftlessly in bed for a few minutes, wishing he could go back to sleep with the guarantee of avoiding any colourful dreams. He can already feel a headache brewing. He rolls over and does his best to ignore it, and nearly succeeds in doing so before his stomach rumbles and he’s reminded that there other, less dramatic day-to-day hungers. Those, at least, are easily taken care of. It’s Sunday morning, and that means fresh muffins from the bakery next to Farah’s favourite coffeeshop. Someone will do the coffee run, and come back bearing muffins, and as soon as whoever volunteered to do that this weekend returns, Dirk will have – no … No, oh wait, oh no, oh _shit_ – _Dirk_ volunteered to do the coffee run today. A younger Dirk, a Dirk of thirty-six hours ago who hadn’t yet wiled away a night crying his eyes out over his best friend, a Dirk who truly and earnestly believed he’d be able to get up in time to be out the door at eight. Present-moment Dirk, bleary-eyed and headachey, fumbles for his phone.

It’s already five to eight.

“Fuck, shit, shit, shit …” Dirk scrambles out of bed, cursing as he stumbles about, tearing off his sleeping shorts and rifling through his wardrobe for a clean pair of jeans. He sniffs his sleep-shirt, swears again, and pulls a jumper hastily over the top of it. He glances in a mirror and grimaces at the state of his hair. Oh, tragic.

There’s no time to mess about with it. Dirk dislikes leaving the house looking so thoroughly less than his best as he does right now, but he promised Farah, and it’s already eight. The muffins always sell out by nine, sometimes eight-thirty, and Farah likes her coffee hit on time, and she never says anything when Dirk fails to get up on time after promising to do the run, she just does it herself without a word of remonstration, but oh, Dirk hates letting Farah down and he’s a rubbish friend and – _stop spinning out_.

That last bit sounds like Todd. Dirk does his best to ignore the little flutter in his stomach. He grabs something to cover his hair, jams it on his head, and rushes out into the hall as if he can just flee and leave the thought of Todd back in his bedroom – _don’t think of Todd in your bedroom_.

Dirk picks up speed, careening into the living room like a train wheeling off the tracks. He knocks his hip on the side of the sofa, bounces into the shoe box, and trips on one of Todd’s discarded trainers in a spectacular pratfall that nearly ends with him braining himself on the umbrella stand. Farah appears just in time to catch Dirk midfall and save them both a trip to the hospital.

“Dirk!” She pulls him up, holding him tightly by the arms as if afraid he’ll keel over if she lets go – which, considering the ringing noise in Dirk’s ears, is probably a safe bet. “Oh – oh my god, are you okay?”

Dirk shoos her hands away, then feels his head reel without the support. He grasps at the wall with one hand to keep himself upright, but like, casually. “I’m fine! Fine! I am fine. Sorry. Sorry. Yes, sorry. Just going out for the coffee run.”

It occurs to Dirk that now is his chance. He could ask Farah to come with him, they could do the coffee run together, and Dirk could use the half hour or so to wake up properly, catch up with his best gal, and casually slip into the conversation that he’s being driven slowly insane by lovesickness and has no idea what to do about it. Farah’s already fully dressed, hair up, jacket on, ready to go – he clearly caught her right at the door.

But then again, he thinks with a pang of guilt, Farah accompanying him on the coffee run would defeat the whole purpose of him doing the coffee run _for_ her. Back to square one, go straight to Bad-Friend-Jail, do not pass through Love-And-Support, do not collect Comfort-And-Advice.

“Dirk,” Farah says firmly, prying him off the wall like a particularly stubborn spider, “you are _not_ doing the coffee run, sit down.” She ushers him down onto the sofa. “Why are you wearing that cowboy hat? I can’t believe you kept that thing …”

“Oh, that’s what I put on?” Dirk feels absently at the hideously yellow brim of the hat. “I mean – yes. Yes, I put on my beloved cowboy hat. Trying something new.”

“You said the colour hurt your eyes.”

“Well, putting it on my head means I don’t have to see it, doesn’t it?”

Farah leans over him, peering closer at his face. “Have you even slept?”

Dirk shrugs and makes a vague, meanderingly nonchalant noise. When that does nothing to convince Farah, he attempts a reassuring smile instead.

Farah pulls back in alarm. “Dirk.”

He deflates. “Oh, alright …” He rubs at his eyes. The headache is making a resurgence. “If we’re being … technical. I didn’t sleep.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Farah sit down next to him. Without looking, he knows what expression she’s wearing – probably one of her puzzled ones, brow furrowed as if she can divine the problem if she just focuses hard enough. Dirk can’t quite make himself look at her directly, though.

He thought when the time to talk to her finally came, it would happen the way most things in his life did – in a conveniently dramatic rush, one thing falling after another under the force of gravity, if a little painfully. He didn’t anticipate the awkward, halting normality of the moment, or the suddenness of it arriving so abruptly and leaving him unsure how to start.

And there’s an old survival instinct in his head, kicking him, telling him to make a joke, brush off Farah’s concern, hide his feelings in a cloud of playful obscurity, and flee before he has to open himself up to ridicule or anything worse.

_Farah is your friend_, says a voice in his head. _She’s not going to hurt you._

Dirk forces himself to look at his friend. And of course, her face is just how he expected; brow furrowed, eyes searching – but looking at it straight on he sees worry there too, and anxiety. And patience.

“Farah,” Dirk says, though his voice comes out smaller than he’d like it to, “can we … talk?”

Farah’s expression, already gentle, softens even further. Then her eyes slide up to the clock on the wall, and she bites her lip.

“… We can talk, but …”

_Idiot. Stupid, stupid Dirk, foisting his problems on others …_

“Of course, no – bad time,” Dirk nods, trying to drown out the voice in his head and trying to smile. “Don’t worry, nothing important, stupid really –”

Farah grabs his arm before he can even move to get up. “No, no – Dirk, I want to talk, I do, okay? But I really need coffee soon, and you look terrible … How about I make the run quickly? I’ll get you your favourite hot chocolate, you go have a quick shower, and when I get back we can talk.”

Dirk hesitates. He lowers his voice, “Can we …? Can we talk in my room? Away fr- I mean. In private?”

Farah’s eyes widen in comprehension. “Oh – yes! We can, as soon as I get back, I promise.” She looks simultaneously relieved and grateful, though Dirk can’t think why.

“Are you sure?” he presses her.

Something in his face seems to confuse and then sadden her, and she pauses, before unexpectedly pulling him into a tight hug. The brim of his cowboy hat knocks against her forehead, but she just hugs him tighter.

“Anything you need,” she says.

Dirk barely has time to react, or to do more than let his arms settle hesitantly around her, before she gives him a fierce, protective squeeze that stirs a sensory memory buried deep in his brain. He feels a rush of love for her so strong that for a moment it re-centres everything that’s been spinning off-kilter. When she pulls back just as abruptly as she began the hug, she’s gruff but not embarrassed, and the anxiety that’s been lingering in Dirk’s chest feels fainter – not entirely banished, but held at bay. For the first time in days, Dirk can believe that everything is going to be alright, and that feeling in itself is like a reprieve.

Farah stands and pulls Dirk up after her, and he only teeters slightly. She nudges him off towards the hallway door with a look, and he goes, aiming a sheepish smile over his shoulder that she in turn rolls her eyes at.

As Farah digs around for her keys though, Dirk pauses at the hallway door to ask one more time, “And you’re okay, you’re just gonna go get coffee?”

“I’m _fine_.” She shoots him another, even sterner rendition of her first look. “Go take a shower, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Just checking.” Dirk doffs his cowboy hat at her, and she snorts. “Come back soon!”

She just waves a hand at him, still searching for the keys.

Dirk heads to the bathroom, his step a little lighter. He tosses the cowboy hat on the floor and pulls out a fresh towel – because today really is the kind of day that deserves a fresh towel – and is already stripping off by the time he hears Farah open and shut the front door on the way out.

Hot chocolate, fresh muffins, and a cathartic conversation with one of his best friends. Maybe today won’t be so awful after all.

Dirk is just about to start the shower when he notices that his favourite shampoo, the fancy one that smells like peonies, is only an empty, flattened husk. Ah well, no matter. Nice try, Universe, but you can’t take Dirk Gently by surprise that easily.

He’s halfway through digging a new bottle out from his stash under the sink when he hears a very determined knock on the door.

Dirk has a split second of automatic panic, the kind customary to being taken by surprise, stark naked in the bathroom when somebody knocks on the door. It’s only a split second, but it takes up what scant time he has to answer, and before he can even open his mouth he hears Todd’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Farah? Listen, I – um. Okay, so.”

There’s a brief pause and Dirk straightens up, meaning to correct him – but Todd starts talking again, in a haphazard rush of stopping and starting.

“I know I kinda snapped at you the other day, and I'm really sorry, and – you were right. You were. I've been weird. I _know _I've been weird.”

_What?_

“And I think - no, okay, I _know _I need to talk about it. I feel like I’m going crazy. Farah, just. If you don't want to get involved, that's fine, and stop me whenever. But if you're still okay to listen, just - just let me get it all out first before you say anything. Because I've been sitting on this a really long time, and I think it's actually easier to do this without seeing your face.”

_What?!_

“So, um. If you don't want to hear this, stop me now?”

Dirk has frozen up, half-kneeling on the bathroom floor, half-turned towards the door, like a very startled marble statue without even a leaf to cover himself. He’s unsure what to do, and his brain is being _super_ unhelpful about the fact that there’s just a flimsy wooden door between Todd and his very naked self. He wishes his brain would shut up about that, because that’s really not the point of what’s happening right now, and it’s just _lewd_, making a thing of it, really, and Todd wouldn’t care anyway – Todd thinks Dirk is Farah, and he’s trying to … confess something? To Farah? Who he doesn’t know is actually Dirk?

Dirk should tell him, obviously. That’s the obvious solution, and Dirk will obviously do that. Only … Todd sounds all shaky, the way he does when he’s trying to make himself confront something that he’s been keeping jammed in the very back of his waking mind, and Dirk can’t help but be worried about that – and also, admittedly, dead curious. He’s Todd’s friend too, right? And surely two friends are better than one, he’s heard it said, when it comes to dealing with confronting things kept jammed in the very back of your waking mind. So it wouldn’t bad, per say, or slightly unethical, for Dirk to just … let Todd think that he’s Farah and let Todd confess whatever it is to Farah-who-is-actually-Dirk. And anyway, Dirk has always been the best at comforting Todd and helping him confront his recently-unjammed-mind-truths.

And then maybe Dirk can pass it onto Farah later – that’s just efficient, isn’t it? Yes, efficient, most convenient thing for everyone, and it has nothing to do with Dirk being nosy and perhaps even a little miffed that Todd has gone straight to Farah without even talking to Dirk first.

No. No, there’s a little red flashing light going off in Dirk’s brain that suggests that pretending to be Farah so that he can eavesdrop on Todd’s personal confession is one of his less virtuous ideas. Probably on par with strategic non-truthing, which, historically, has resulted in a lot of shouting and genuine feelings of betrayal. He’ll tell Todd it’s him before this goes any further.

“Okay, um. Thank you,” says Todd outside the door, having accepted Dirk’s prolonged silence as agreement.

… _Fuck_.

Dirk unfreezes and gets up, snatching up his towel and wrapping it around his waist. He’ll just answer the door. Maybe he can pretend he was listening to music. Or asleep. Something.

But Todd is already launching into a speech; “So you’ve … I think you’ve worked this much out already, but it is. About. Dirk.”

Dirk freezes again.

“Uh. Basically, I just …”

Dirk’s heart doesn’t seem to be working properly. Nothing seems to be working properly; he’s flooded with adrenalin and dread and terror but confirmation of nothing – all feelings held suspended by the pause on Todd’s end.

_‘Just’ what? He just hates me? He just feels uncomfortable around me?_

“… kind of …”

_Kind of worked out I love him and I think about him and I think about him while doing things I shouldn’t be doing and now he hates me and feels uncomfortable around me –_

“… have a thing for him?” finishes Todd.

Dirk sits down on the edge of the bathtub, heavily, his legs having given out from underneath him.

“Ugh, no,” Todd is already saying, and Dirk experiences a momentary flash of agony before Todd continues, “that makes it sound so – juvenile. It’s not just a thing. Like, I’m full on ... I have? _Feelings_? You know?” 

Dirk stares at the tiled wall opposite him, clinging tightly to the edge of the bathtub so as not to lose his balance. He seems to be losing his balance a lot today – though really, he’s hardly to blamed when revelations like – like …

“I … I love Dirk.” Those wonderful words are followed by an even lovelier sound – a breathless, delighted almost-laugh.

Dirk’s only ever heard Todd laugh like that a handful of times – usually at the height of a case, when he sees something so spectacular or so beautiful that all he can do is smile, his eyes wide and wondering at the Universe he’s found himself in. To hear it now, right after Todd says that … Oh, Dirk’s heart expands and flutters and _flies_.

“Like, really, really bad, Farah. I don't even know what to _do_. And since that whole thing in the hotel room ... I know I looked like I was unconscious, but I wasn’t completely out of it, I could still feel …” There’s a pause. “Look, you probably get the picture. I just - can’t stop thinking about it, how it felt to –”

Todd cuts himself off, but Dirk already feels that familiar tug in his stomach, warm and nervous, but suddenly no longer unwelcome.

“To be totally honest it’s ... It didn’t just start _then_, the - um … I’ve felt like this about Dirk since … forever. It’s just, obviously, having him lying on top of me made that all a lot more, uh … you know?”

_Oh, I _know_. _

Dirk’s fairly certain he can feel his very fingertips buzzing. He feels slightly out of his body, floating – and still Todd keeps talking.

“I feel so weird about it, because I _know _he just sees me as a friend, and …”

_What? How? What?!_

“I’m … a real fucking creep, aren’t I? Don’t answer that. Uh. But I don’t know how to stop … everything. I don’t think I _can _stop feeling like this. Honestly, I don’t … think I _want _to stop. The love, I mean. All of it.”

_The love._

_Love._

_Todd loves me back._

Dirk comes out of shock only to turn around and head straight back into it. He’s lightheaded as if he’s just had a sudden fall; he’s full to bursting with soaring feelings of happiness, astonishment, and an unbridled joy so overwhelming that he closes his eyes just to bask in it.

Todd feels the same. He feels _exactly_ the same.

Dirk could nearly cry with the relief and the wonder of it. And yet at the same time, he feels completely stupid, in the best way possible – another puzzle piece has clicked into place and now he’s marvelling at the fact that he was looking at that bit completely the wrong way this whole time. _Of course_ Todd understands. Of course he feels the same way.

_He’s Todd. He’s my Todd. What was I even worried about?_

Dirk realises, with another rush of delight, that this means … This means he doesn’t have to hold back anymore. He can feel what he wants to feel without guilt and follow every instinct he wants to because Todd loves him back and Todd feels the same way and oh _god_, Todd was thinking about the hotel too …

Dirk can go to the door right now. He can throw himself into Todd’s arms and tell him that he loves him; he can let himself fall –

“Farah?”

The dizzying heights that Dirk has been climbing to for the past minute pop abruptly out of existence. He plummets back to his current reality; sitting in his bathroom, pretending to be Farah under somewhat morally dubious circumstances, wearing only a towel.

Todd is clearly becoming perturbed by the silence, because he lets out a tight, awkward laugh. “You can … you can talk now. You, um… I know you probably think I’ve been really creepy and Dirk’s your friend too and … Can you just say _something_, please?”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Dirk looks around for an escape route instinctively, and briefly considers climbing out the window before remembering that he’s on the second floor. Stupid bloody bathroom with only one measly exit, why can’t there be some kind of convenient interdimensional portal somewhere – those things are never in the bathrooms you really want them to be in –

“Farah? Are you okay?”

A little voice in Dirk’s head begins to chant _shit-shit-shit-shit-shit_. He stands, even though he has no idea what use standing up will do, or how it’s going to help him find a suitable hiding space for a nearly six-foot adult in tiny, closet-less bathroom. If only he could fold himself up like a paper crane and jam himself into the cupboard under the sink.

“Oh, god, is this a _really _bad time or something?”

There’s a rustle at the door, and Dirk, in his mounting panic, flails silently, looks around once more, and then follows the first impulse that springs foolishly to mind.

“_N- nooo_!” he replies, in a high-pitched wail that utterly fails to sound anything like Farah, “_Aaaaall is well_!”

The complete and total silence in the long seconds that follow confirm that this wasn’t one of Dirk’s hottest impressions. Todd is clearly speechless with something, and although Dirk doesn’t have any directly paralleling situations to compare this one to, he can guess that Todd is most likely speechless with rage, horror, or some very spicy combination of the two.

Dirk considers again the window plan, the cupboard plan, and the portal plan, before remembering that the first two aren’t remotely viable and the third was just a tangential thought spat out by his desperate hindbrain. He considers, for one further second, hiding behind the shower curtain, for old times sake, then decides that hiding in the bathroom and leaving Todd in the lurch probably qualifies as what an old uni tutor he knew would call “just not cricket.”

Dirk swallows back the increasingly fast beating of his heart. He checks that his towel is wrapped securely. He goes to the door. And he very carefully, very slowly opens it, just a crack.

And there’s Todd, unusually pale, still in his pyjamas, and the sight of him – all real and requiting Dirk’s love – fills Dirk with a mixed-up flurry of emotions. Reiterations of delight, relief, excitement, and love. Mostly love, really. But also largely the emotion of ‘_oh-fuck-I’ve-done-a-whoopsie-and-now-I’m-in-trouble_.’ It makes it very difficult to look serious and neutral, and Dirk feels like he’s about to pull a muscle in his face from the effort.

At the sight of Dirk, Todd only pales further.

“Oh,” he says faintly.

“Now, Todd,” Dirk says, with no small amount of trepidation, struggling with all his might to keep his feelings and his face in check, “You _really _musn’t be angry.”

Todd stares at Dirk’s face, as if hoping that if he doesn’t blink, it will transmogrify into Farah’s face. That obviously doesn’t take. Instead Todd’s gaze travels downwards through the sliver of open door, taking in Dirk’s bare collarbones, bare chest, bare stomach – then Todd reaches the point where Dirk’s towel appears. He starts, pales impossibly further, and pulls the door shut so fast that the doorknob on Dirk’s side is wrenched from his hand.

Dirk blinks at panelled wood. He frowns. He pulls the door open from his side. Todd is still there, still pale, still staring fixedly.

Dirk opens his mouth to speak and Todd pulls the door shut again.

Dirk opens it. “Silly. I have the high ground here – the door locks from the inside.”

In response, Todd pulls the door shut with another snap.

Dirk scoffs and pulls at the doorknob, but only gets the door to budge a crack before Todd tries to pull it shut from the other side. A physical comedy of door wrestling erupts between them; Dirk tugs on his end, Todd manages to shut it for a moment, Dirk opens it again, Todd yanks it back towards closed as Dirk tries to hold on – the hinges protest and the knobs clank and clatter between the banging and creaking of the wood.

“Okay –” Dirk huffs, struggling to keep the door open for longer than half a second, “can you just …?”

Todd doesn’t reply, but the flashes of his face that appear amidst the opening and shutting of the door show a wan determination that doesn’t bode well. Dirk can’t really be sure what Todd hopes to achieve by keeping the door shut, but he can guess that Todd’s motivations are something along the lines of a complete and total refusal to confront the situation he’s found himself in.

“Really now – Just, ple– _Todd_!”

Dirk gives his end an almighty pull. Todd is almost tugged forwards by the momentum but digs his heels in and throws his weight into pulling the door shut, and Dirk – seeing a flash of terror in Todd’s eyes and fearing that Todd is about to finally make a run for it – shoves half his forearm into the closing gap.

“Ow – _fuck_!” Dirk retracts his arm, hissing in pain.

The door slams shut.

“_Ow_!” Dirk says again, more pointedly this time.

“I’m not falling for that one again!” Todd shouts from the other side of the door.

Dirk just winces, cradling his throbbing arm to his chest, “No, you _really_ hurt me this time …”

“Oh, shit –” Todd flings the door open in a panic, smacking it straight into Dirk’s face.

“Ow!” Dirk staggers back, his uninjured hand flying to his face. “Bloody _hell_, Todd!”

“Ah – sorry! Sorry!”

Dirk reaches blindly for the sink to lean on, stumbles, puts his foot on something with a loud crunching noise, slips, and is caught around the shoulders by familiar hands.

“I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have … I- I wasn’t trying to …”

Todd stammers a blurred stream of apologies as he guides Dirk back to the edge of the bathtub, and when Dirk opens his stinging eyes the first thing he sees is Todd, looking far more guilt-stricken than their little slapstick comedy routine really warrants. The second thing he sees, when he follows Todd’s line of sight down to the floor, is his own squashed cowboy hat, its plastic weaving having been crushed underfoot.

“Shit, your hat, sorry …”

Dirk kicks it out of the way. “It’s alright,” he tries to say, but Todd doesn’t slow down.

“I’m sorry, Dirk – I didn’t know y- Are you okay? I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to do that to you …”

Dirk reaches up to Todd’s hands, still on his shoulders. He means to take them, to try to calm Todd down, but Todd snatches his hands away as if he’s committed some sort of criminal offence.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says again, backing away.

“No, look – it’s fine, I’m fine –”

“I hurt you.”

Dirk snorts, stretching his wrist, “Well, I probably shouldn’t have shoved my whole arm in the door.”

“I shouldn’t have slammed it on you,” Todd says, “I’m so – I’m so fucking stupid, god, I’m sorry …”

Dirk watches the stricken look on Todd’s face shift to a terribly familiar look – one of quietly defeated self-hatred. With a pang in his chest, he realises that Todd is apologising for more than just accidentally slamming Dirk’s arm in the door.

“No, Todd …” He puts his arm out for Todd again, trying to show Todd that he’s fine. Trying to coax him back in. “Come back, please, it’s okay –”

But Todd is still agonising, clenching and unclenching his fists and not listening at all.

“I’m such an idiot, I should have – Or I _shouldn’t_ have …” Todd shakes his head, “I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, I’m sorry, Dirk.”

Shoulders hunched and tense, Todd turns to the door, clearly intending to flee. Dirk feels a spike of panic and launches himself up before Todd can leave, grabbing Todd’s wrist.

“I love you too!”

It’s less than graceful, less than articulate, and it comes out a little desperate – but it still feels like a miracle to say it out loud.

Todd, pulled to a halt, stops. For a moment he just stands there, facing away, held in place by Dirk’s grip, and for the length of that moment Dirk’s heart leaps horribly into his throat and sticks there – oh god, has he really misunderstood something, has he really cocked it up now –

Then Todd turns slowly, haltingly. He’s frowning in confusion, as though Dirk has just inexplicably shouted at him in French.

“You …” He gives a minute shake of the head. “No. Wait. What? No, you don’t.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, in a tone that suggests the mere idea of Dirk loving him is simply ridiculous. It really would be endearing if it weren’t so heart-breaking.

“Well, I think I’d be the one to know, and I can assure you, I do.” It feels oddly formal to say it like that, to talk about it like it’s a minor food preference he’s referring to and not multi-faceted and all-consuming feelings that have been building inside him for months. It makes this entire situation feel more than a little unreal, and Dirk can feel a slightly hysterical laugh trying to bubble up out of him from sheer nerves. “I – I really do.”

Todd just frowns down at the floor in a particularly obstinate way.

Dirk steps forwards, bringing them a little closer together. “I should … probably start somewhere closer to the start.” Todd says nothing, so Dirk continues, carefully. “What you said to Farah – I mean, to me, because you were talking to me even though you thought you were talking to Farah …”

Todd begins to look annoyed at that untimely reminder. Dirk backtracks.

“No – I didn’t do it on purpose – not _on_-_purpose_-on-purpose, I don’t usually go around pretending to be Farah,” he adds hastily. “I suppose I could have cut in at some point …”

Todd’s ‘annoyed’ veers towards ‘distinctly stormy.’

Dirk moves his grip to Todd’s hand, not letting him pull away. “But-I-swear-I-just-sort-of-went-into-shock-because-I-couldn’t-believe-what-I-was-hearing-please-don’t-be-mad?”

Todd sighs, his glare fading back to a faint frown. It’s the kind of expression he often wears when he’s just about to resign himself to forgiving Dirk for breaking the dishwasher for the third time in a month. Dirk, as always, takes it as a tentative green light.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I honestly just … I couldn’t believe that you …” He can’t quite make himself say it – it’s still too wonderful, too new. Too much to take in at once. He almost feels like if he says it aloud too soon, it’ll melt away, back into the ephemera of dream and fantasy.

Todd’s eyes fall on their joined hands. The wrinkle between his brows deepens; Dirk can see him putting two and two together and still struggling to come up with four, because for some reason he’s apparently convinced himself that four can’t possibly exist.

“Dirk, when I said … I’m _serious_. I …” Todd swallows. He’s gone stiff – Dirk can feel him holding himself completely still, as if he’s barely daring to breathe. He still doesn’t meet Dirk’s eye, but he speaks, haltingly, “This isn’t just me, like – having a thing for you, or … I’m … I need you to be serious about this.”

“I _am_ serious, really I am –”

Dirk says it too fast, or too brightly; Todd extracts his hand from Dirk’s grip.

“No, you don’t get it – I’m – I feel …”

“So do I –”

“I’ve been _thinking_ about you, Dirk, about the hotel, and –”

“_So have I_!”

That stops Todd in his tracks. His cheeks pinken slightly. “Wh- really?”

“Yes, you absolute – Look, you want to draw up a scoreboard on this? How do you think I feel?” Dirk demands. “This is all completely out of the blue for me too, I was so surprised by it that I was _literally struck dumb_ – do you know how many times that’s happened to me in my life? _Me_? Endless velocity verbosity central?”

Todd colours further, “Well, it’s not like you ever said –”

“I tried flirting with you!”

“So did I!” Todd throws back at him.

It’s Dirk’s turn to be abruptly silenced.

“You – you did?” he says after a moment. There’s another swooping sensation in his stomach, a pleased fluster tinted by curiosity. “When?”

Todd makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan, “Yeah. That’s – My flirting skills aren’t exactly …”

“When.”

Todd is decidedly pink now. “Like. I don’t know. It’s not like I ever _decided_ to do it, I just …” He throws both hands up, “In Bergsberg. When you were anxious, one of those times. I did that – stupid impression …”

A little of the nervous laugh from earlier – which had apparently been biding its time for something really unexpected – is startled out of Dirk. Todd reddens further, but Dirk shakes his head, smiling.

“No, it’s … Your English accent?”

Irrepressible fondness comes out in Dirk’s voice, though Todd, clearly embarrassed, still protests, “Can we just – not go over –”

“I thought you were comforting me?”

“Yeah,” says Todd, giving a sheepish half-shrug, “and then I was … also – kind of flirting with you?”

Dirk thinks back on that moment, remembering the goofy smile on Todd’s face, and the way it had brightened Dirk’s then sore-and-weary heart. “Why?”

Todd looks taken aback. “Because I wanted to make you smile,” he says, then looks surprised by his own candidness. He flushes again, looks down, and adds quietly, “Because I … I wanted to. I guess.”

Dirk feels a little pink himself. “That – that far back?”

“Yeah.” Todd looks up hesitantly, trying to gauge Dirk’s expression. “There were other times. More recent ones.” Before Dirk can ask after _those_ times, Todd sighs and admits, “I just thought that if you – if you were really interested in me, then I’d know about it by now. Like, considering how pushy you were about us being friends …”

“Well, considering how reluctant _you_ were about us being friends, wouldn’t you say my wariness on the romantic side of things was at least a little warranted?” Dirk counters. “And to be honest …” He hesitates.

Todd shifts anxiously. “What?”

“No, it’s nothing bad, it was just … I – I _have_ been …” Dirk struggles to phrase it delicately, “a little thrown. By – by semi-recent … developments. I always – I’ve always been ‘interested’ in you, or – you know, I’ve spent so much of the time we’ve known each other being ‘interested’ in you that it may as well have been always …”

Todd, still pink, looks like he has no idea how to parse this information, let alone fully accept it.

“It’s the other – stuff that’s been … that threw me. The – um … Well, it’s …”

“Dirk, what –”

Dirk rips the band-aid off. “I’ve been romantically interested in you since I met you, but I only started having sexual feelings for you a while ago and I didn’t know what to do about them because I’ve never had those before.”

“You’re … You never …?”

There’s an awful moment when horror dawns on Todd’s face, and Dirk thinks the worst, before Todd opens his mouth and starts apologising again.

“You’re ace … shit, I’m sorry – oh god, I’m –”

“Alright, _stop that_,” Dirk smacks Todd in the arm. “Stop apologising. Honestly, I’m a little impressed you even know that word –”

“Amanda’s first girlfriend was.” Todd rubs at his face, “God, Dirk, I’m sorry – I- I should probably tell you –”

Dirk smacks him again, harder this time, “Todd, will you _shut up and listen to me_, please? I’m not – I thought I was _something_ asexual and I am but it’s – I’m demisexual. I think. Or grey. Maybe just Todd-sexual, it doesn’t really matter to me, I tend to approach those sorts of labels … holistically. The point is, I do feel the same way as you, very, _very_ much so, and part of the reason it was so hard to – to wrap my head around it and _do_ something about it was because apart from being _stupidly_ convinced you weren’t interested, I was … I’ve never fallen in love with someone in _this_ way.”

At the end of this impassioned speech, Todd is stunned silent. Dirk can see his mind reeling, as the fact which Dirk has been doing his utmost to impress on him – the fact that Dirk loves him – finally begins to batter through the layers of shock, denial, and asexuality-related catastrophising. He sees everything that he’s been telling Todd in the last ten minutes finally sink in, slip down past each defence, and strike home. Slowly, a hopeful light begins to shine in Todd’s eyes, though wary.

That look prompts one of Dirk’s old impulses, a tugging at his heart, and for the first time he allows himself to follow it without guilt or hesitation. He moves closer and, gently, he cups his hands around Todd’s face. He can feel Todd holding himself still again, each breath carefully controlled.

“Todd,” Dirk says, catching Todd’s eyes – blue, clear, and no longer forbidden. “Do you hear what I’m saying? _I feel the same_. Everything you said … I feel _exactly_ the same.”

“You …” Todd tries to say again, and Dirk can see him carefully sounding each word out in his head before letting it out of his mouth, like he’s learning a new language. “You … love … me?”

“I love you,” Dirk says, and this time it feels real – this time he feels a twist in his chest, as if his heart has just caught the wind under its wings. A smile breaks out on his face, and he lets himself say it again, “I _love_ you, Todd.”

Todd takes in the words, takes in the smile, and looks dazzled. It’s a good look on him, if Dirk is honest – there’s something breath-takingly tender about it. It spurs Dirk towards another impulse, and he follows it, silently rejoicing in the fact that he can now. He strokes his thumb across Todd’s cheek and presses closer, and his heart gives another flutter as Todd moves too, his hands settling on Dirk’s waist, pulling him in.

Todd himself doesn’t seem to realise the movement; his gaze is fixed on Dirk’s face, and there’s a smile beginning to show at the very corner of his mouth. Dirk is equally mesmerised, lost in thoughts of kissing that smile the moment it fully appears. The dizzying high from before is returning, and Dirk is ready and willing to lose himself in it. Everything else in his surroundings seems to fade; the white confines of the bathroom, a faint noise in the flat beyond – it all becomes irrelevant as Todd’s arms encircle him.

“Dirk,” Todd murmurs, somehow finding a brand-new way of saying it, a way that reawakens that tug in the pit of Dirk’s stomach.

Dirk is very aware, for the first time in a few minutes, that he’s only wearing a towel.

But that faint sound in the flat is suddenly much less faint – footsteps sound in the hall outside, and a voice cuts rudely into Dirk’s waking daydream, “… just in time, and I got the last three muffins!”

Dirk and Todd spring apart at the sound of Farah’s voice, but Dirk’s spring is a little too springy. He knocks back into the edge of the bath and nearly falls back into it – Todd seizes him by the waist.

“There was only one mint-chocolate left, but _I_ did the run, so when Todd gets up he can just …” Farah arrives at the open bathroom door, coffee tray and paper bag in hand, “… deal with it.”

Farah takes one look at the scene before her – Dirk half-naked, hanging out of Todd’s arms over the bath, both of them red-faced, Dirk desperately clutching his towel in place – and instantly averts her eyes skyward.

“Ahaha, _okay_! Um, yeah! So!” She does the awkward, half-shake of the head she often does when at a complete loss for words, as if trying clear water out of her ears. “Um – I’m – I’m gonna go – for a walk. Yes. I’m gonna leave your drinks on the table, and uh, and your muffins, and I’m just gonna take a walk.”

Todd pulls Dirk properly upright, but Farah has already turned on her heel, her voice travelling back down the hall towards them even as she all but bolts from the flat.

“Lovely day for a walk. A really long walk. An incredibly long walk. In fact,” she shouts back to them from the living room, clattering about frantically, “you know what? I’m gonna treat myself, I think I’ll – I’ll go have a just-me dinner down at that nice diner, the one all the way down by the docks, so … yes-don’t-wait-up-see-you-bye!”

The door to the flat slams shut in the distance.

Silence reigns in the bathroom for a few moments. Then Todd, apparently realising that he’s still holding onto Dirk’s waist, releases him with a muttered apology, his face flaming red. Even Dirk has to admit, in this instance he’s only slightly less embarrassed about being discovered by one friend in a distinctly underdressed position with another friend. But the second friend is Todd, and Dirk is _very_ okay with being in distinctly underdressed positions with Todd, _and_ he’s just discovered that Todd is probably okay with being in distinctly underdressed positions with _him_ – so it doesn’t seem so bad, really. Also, Farah was almost definitely hiding a smile as she left.

Dirk gives Todd a moment and takes said moment to also ensure that his towel is re-secured. Fussing over the towel only seems to remind Todd of its existence, though, and its purpose in being the single bit of fabric obscuring Dirk from him and not really doing a very thorough job of it at that. Todd turns redder.

“Sorry. Um. You should have your shower. I interrupted …” He trails off, staring at Dirk’s midriff again.

“No need to apologise.” A cheesy, half-joking part of Dirk – probably a part closely associated with the more physically-oriented parts of him – wants to ask Todd if he likes what he sees. The rest of Dirk is pinned to the spot by Todd’s eyes, trying to process the fact that Todd is … looking at him. Like _that_.

He probably should have his shower. He really didn’t sleep well, his back hurts, and though the headache has disappeared, he still feels less than romantic material right now. And yet he’s unwilling to let Todd out of his sight, partially because Todd is actually looking at him as if Dirk _is_ romantic material, and partially because there’s still a lingering anxiety in Dirk’s mind that if Todd disappears, everything that has just happened could disappear too.

So he doesn’t want Todd to go, as much as he sort of would like a shower.

That persistent voice in his head mutters something about killing two birds with one stone.

Dirk begins to say, “You could –”

Todd speaks at the same time, “If you want, tonight I –”

They both fall silent, with mirrored, slightly foolish half-grins. That is, Dirk guesses he’s wearing a foolish grin, and Todd is definitely looking a bit dopey – it’s another _excellent_ look on him, happy and bashful like this. Then Todd’s eyes skim down to the edge of Dirk’s towel and back up to Dirk’s face, and suddenly he doesn’t look remotely bashful anymore.

And looking at Todd now, Dirk realises that the expression he’s seeing – all warmth and want – is familiar. Dirk’s caught glimpses of it before – always swiftly hidden or tamped down on, but there all the same, for so long now that he somehow took it for granted. Didn’t understand what it really meant.

The realisation surprises Dirk anew with another little jolt of quiet delight, so that instead of what he originally meant to ask, he says, “You really want me?”

He says it wonderingly, but Todd takes it as a real question.

“Yes!” Todd says, as if it’s an insane question, which is a bit rich considering he follows the reply with a worried pucker to his brow. “Dirk, are you sure that you –”

“Yes!” Dirk insists in turn, stepping back into Todd’s space, eager and determined that Todd not doubt for a single second more, “Yes, to whatever you were going to say – I want you, I want what you want, yes to all of it, I – I …” His breath stutters as Todd pulls Dirk fully closer again, by the hips this time, his fingers scrunching dangerously in the fabric of Dirk’s towel. “I love – I love you so much …”

Dirk can feel Todd’s gaze scanning his face now, but his own eyes are transfixed by the shape of Todd’s lips, and the way they shape the words that Todd murmurs back to him.

“I love you.”

Dirk’s throat is closing up – he almost feels like he’s going to cry. “Can I –” his voice cracks, but he’s barely halfway through saying, “is it alright if I …” before Todd replies:

“Please.”

And finally, cupping unsteady hands around that precious face as he did before, Dirk leans in, and kisses Todd.

And the thing that Dirk immediately realises is that his many, detailed imaginings haven’t remotely prepared him for the real thing. A small part of him had tried to be reasonable about it – there were even times, early on, when Dirk had tried to comfort himself with the assurance that a real physical situation would probably be at least a _little_ bit underwhelming in comparison to his fantasises. Instead Dirk is rapidly finding that in every way, his fantasies are quickly paling in comparison to reality. It’s like being back in the hotel, finding out for the first time how Todd’s body felt when pressed against his. Only this time, there’s no guilt, no drug-addled terror, and all the best missing pieces are being filled in – and Dirk is allowed to lose himself in all of it.

Dirk has always _imagined_ that Todd’s lips would be soft, but imagining that hasn’t prepared him for _feeling_ how soft they are, or for how _good_ that softness feels against his own mouth. Dirk may have spent hours, afternoons, nights dreaming about how every kiss would feel like an ascension, but none of it prepared him for the actual sensations: the way their lips fit together perfectly one moment, then move against each other; the way that Todd’s stubble contrasts with the pliant warmth of his mouth. The way that those sensations begin as slight and as tentative as the first scattered drops of rain at the onset of a summer storm, and slowly begin to envelop Dirk, mind and body, as Todd presses closer, his face still cradled gently by Dirk’s hands.

That’s the last thing Dirk is so ill-prepared for: the way that Todd presses into the kiss so cautiously, almost hesitantly. Dirk would think it was reluctance were it not for the tension he can feel thrumming through Todd’s body, a tension he recognises from earlier. Todd isn’t reluctant, he’s the opposite – he’s holding himself still again, kissing Dirk as carefully as he can, as if Dirk might change his mind at any moment. It makes Dirk realise that he’s not the only one who’s been holding himself back. And that’s a strange realisation, and more than a little saddening – but it’s comforting too. Dirk hasn’t been alone, not for a second.

But as comforting as it is, as undeniably sweet as it is to be kissed with such care, Dirk can feel something underneath which is much more intriguing. Dirk can feel _want_. The tension in Todd’s body isn’t just holding back out of care – Todd is holding back because he wants more. There’s something with a darker kind of sweetness being held just below the surface; Dirk can taste it in the fleeting parting of Todd’s mouth, the hint of his tongue like the aftertaste of honey. Being wanted by Todd – in every daydream, every imagined scenario be it innocent or positively filthy, that’s the thing that’s been at the very core of Dirk’s fantasies. And now Dirk is starting to find traces of it, and Todd – infuriating and lovely as he is – is holding back.

Well, really. That won’t do.

Dirk moves his hands from Todd’s face, tracing the lines on either side where his jaw leads to his neck and then his shoulders. That makes Todd shiver, just a little, and Dirk can feel the faintest suggestion of a pause, a tremor where that dark sweetness is being hidden away. Then Todd, with obvious effort, continues to kiss Dirk as if Dirk is very breakable.

Message still not getting across. Alright. Fine.

Dirk sucks Todd’s bottom lip slowly into his mouth, then, just to drive the point home, he bites down softly – and is rewarded by Todd quivering, trembling, and finally breaking. The last of Todd’s reserves evaporate all at once, and in the space of a second Dirk goes from having only _imagined_ being wanted by Todd, to being fully and whole-heartedly immersed in _feeling_ it.

It’s more than dizzying, more than overwhelming. More than addictive, Dirk can already tell. The moment Todd lets himself want, the kiss changes – it surges and deepens; Todd’s hands rake into Dirk’s hair, his mouth becomes hungry. The sensations turn from raindrops to gathering thunder, and Dirk is suddenly reminded of dream he had about the hotel, and the moment right before he woke, when he dreamed that Todd kissed him like a drowning man.

That dream kiss is not like this real one. It’s something _like_ it, almost eerily in fact, but turned on its head and shot through with reality in a way that makes it immeasurably better. Dirk can still distantly feel a knot in his back from sleeping poorly, as well as a faint stiffness from standing so long on cold tiles, but _god_, Todd’s mouth, Todd’s hands, Todd wanting him back, Todd kissing him not like he’s drowning but like he’s dying of thirst and Dirk is the only thing that could possibly satiate him. It all feels all the more real for those little strains of reality, and Dirk can’t help but marvel at the fact that – despite how much of a mess he is right now, his hair limp and his face unwashed – Todd wants him anyway.

As if hearing that thought and disapproving of the question even being raised, Todd chooses this moment to bite back. It takes Dirk by surprise, coaxing out a sound that comes out far louder than Dirk means it to. For a split second Dirk is a little mortified, but Todd is already smiling against his mouth, sliding one hand down to the back of Dirk’s neck to pull him closer. Dirk starts to feel sparks chasing fractal patterns down his sides, down his spine from the place where Todd’s hand is cupping the side of his neck with something that balances on the knife edge between gentle and rough. The tugging in Dirk’s stomach is quickly turning to a simmering warmth.

In all, Dirk is having to recalculate yet again just how not-awful today is, considering certain … avenues of interest that are rapidly suggesting themselves as _actually possible_. Which, to be honest, is a lot to wrap his head around, considering that when he had woken up this morning, it had been to a slight headache, a severe heartache, and the demands of a libido that he had assumed would have to be staunchly ignored. It’s almost too much – too exciting, too nerve-wracking, too everything-longed-for-all-at-once.

Again, Dirk is standing on the edge of everything, drunk on the vertigo of it – but this time, _this time_, he doesn’t have to tightrope-walk on that edge anymore. He’s allowed to fall.

In fact, Dirk is fairly certain that, judging from the way that one of Todd’s hands is moving down towards the spot where Dirk’s towel is tucked into place, he’s allowed to _jump_.

It’s with that in mind that he pulls back and starts to say, “Todd, if –”

Todd doesn’t even stop to listen, let alone let him get the words out. “Yes, I’m sure, totally sure,” he says, and tries to pull Dirk back into another kiss.

“No, Todd,” Dirk pulls away enough to laugh, “I mean I’m all – I haven’t even washed my face –”

“You’re beautiful,” Todd says, with exactly the kind of quiet, naked sincerity that Dirk has always found particularly devastating.

While Dirk is trying catch his breath from that Todd steals it away again; he moves forward and kisses Dirk, demandingly this time. His thumb, in thrilling juxtaposition, is slowly tracing the arc of Dirk’s left hip-bone, just above the edge of his towel – Dirk feels a lightning zip of arousal go from groin to stomach to throat before he can force himself to pull back.

“Thank – Yes, you’re … you’re wonderful, but I would like to – to freshen up.” Dirk meets Todd’s eyes clearly. He really hopes this isn’t going to cause another misunderstanding, but if this is going where he hopes it is, he’d like to at least be assured that he doesn’t smell terrible. “Just five minutes. I really do want to wash my face. Get out of this towel.”

Dirk’s efforts at communicating with his eyes seem to take; he sees Todd’s initial confusion and trepidation give way to something brighter, something that looks more like nerves. The good kind of nerves.

“S-sure! Yeah. Um. Although – for the record, the towel …”

Todd trails off, a blush reappearing on his cheeks, and seems to think better of continuing, even though Dirk is giving him an intrigued look. Possibly because Dirk is giving him an intrigued look.

Todd clears his throat, and says again, “Sure. Five minutes?”

“Five minutes.”

Todd ducks out, closing the door behind him, and Dirk hears his footsteps hasten away down the corridor.

Dirk washes his face and freshens up as quickly as he can, nervous excitement prickling in his fingertips. He’s a little hesitant to tidy his hair, because he feels more than a bit smug that Todd did that much damage to it, but then he decides to finger-comb it quickly anyway. Hopefully that will encourage Todd to mess it up again.

Dirk’s stomach is flipping over at the thought of Todd’s fingers in his hair again when he straightens up from drying his face and gets a proper look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It strikes him how different that reflection is to the one he saw the night of his dream about the hotel. Where that reflection was miserable and splotchy, this one looks very thoroughly kissed and undeniably happy. And, yes. A little nervous.

“Alright,” Dirk whispers to that reflection. “Jumping in headfirst. Very on-brand. Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment of silence please for the smut writer I made friends with on fanfic dot net back in 2010 before I knew I was asexual and only knew that I was very alienated by smut and so claimed I would likely never write it. Look at me now Laura !
> 
> No content warnings except like, a mild dash of secondhand embarrassment once and also one light-hearted joke about stereotypes about ace people.

When Dirk steps out of the bathroom it’s almost directly into Todd, who’s standing in the hall, shifting from foot to foot. He’s pulled on a thick woollen dressing gown over his pyjamas, and Dirk makes a mental note to remove it as soon as possible. He presses a quick, hard kiss to Todd’s lips, then starts down the hall to his bedroom.

He almost immediately stops though, because Todd doesn’t follow. Instead he stands in place, looking unsure if he’s allowed to follow at all.

“Todd?”

Todd wets his lips. “Are … You said you were gonna get dressed?” he asks, gesturing towards Dirk’s open bedroom door.

“I never said that,” Dirk replies archly. “I said I wanted to get out of my towel.” He lets that sink in, then summons up all the confidence he can muster and adds, “Are you coming or not, darling?”

Todd stares at him, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. Another good look.

Dirk turns back towards his bedroom, biting his lip and praying to the memory of that Visayan goddess he met once that he, Dirk Gently, can pull off being suave for long enough to get Todd Brotzman back to his bedroom, and that from thereon in he can handle things without falling on his face _too_ much.

_Please let him follow m_e, Dirk thinks to himself, and not for the first time.

Be it the influences of the Universe, the Visayan goddess, or sheer luck, Dirk manages not to trip, sneeze, or otherwise make a really un-sexy fool of himself on the way back to the bedroom. He can hear Todd behind him, catching up as Dirk slips into the room. Todd follows him and closes the door quietly, and then they’re alone in the space – familiar, smelling of home, and smaller and more intimate than Dirk remembers it feeling this morning.

Dirk is looking at the rumpled bed, thinking of how many times he’s wished he could have Todd in it, and feeling slightly out of body at the idea that very soon he might get that wish, when he senses Todd behind him. Dirk doesn’t turn around. He waits to see what Todd will do, basking in the way Todd’s presence feels like an anchor and a magnet at the same time.

Todd’s hands take him by the waist and Dirk lets himself lean back into Todd’s chest, releasing a sigh that lifts a weight off his heart. Todd turns him around. Dirk sees a flash of his eyes, dark and fixed intently on Dirk’s mouth, before Todd kisses him.

The kiss starts gentle, with soft, small movements and Dirk’s arms winding around Todd’s neck. Then Dirk’s fingers sink into Todd’s hair and Todd’s hands lower onto Dirk’s hips, and the kiss grows heated, and soon they’re picking up where they left off. Now though, Dirk feels fresh, clean in a way that makes him feel more awake, more certain that this is real; Todd really is holding him, Todd really is kissing him.

Todd seems more alert too and more confident – the latter thing in particular, Dirk is quickly deciding he likes very, very much. Todd kisses with the same dedication with which he follows Dirk through cases, full of warmth and an intensity that makes Dirk’s head absolutely spin. There are the same unexpected bursts of delight and mischief there too; Todd bites Dirk’s lip again, clearly seeking the same response from before, and he gets it too – then grins and dives into another kiss.

Dirk is enveloped once again in field of sensations, and this time he’s not so distracted by the surprise of _feeling_ them rather than imagining them. This time, instead of being simply overwhelmed, he leaps joyfully into all of it. He slides his fingers through Todd’s hair, he kisses Todd back and revels in the push and pull, the soft and firm – every place where Todd’s skin touches his. Most of all, Dirk lets himself memorise all of it, safe in the knowledge that he doesn’t have to pull back, he doesn’t have to forget. And the more that Todd kisses him, the more all of those sensations surround Dirk, the more he realises that Todd, too, has been carrying his own storm, his own cloud of love and want – and now Dirk is being drawn into it.

He’s more than willing.

Through the combined clouds of his and Todd’s arousal, Dirk is faintly aware that he’s making a lot of noises that very clearly communicate just how willing he is. Todd, by contrast, is quiet but for the shaky breaths he takes between kisses. Dirk doesn’t mind that at all – he wants to be the one to draw Todd out until even his in-built repression can’t hold any longer – but a small part of him is a little self-conscious by just how loud he is in comparison. Luckily, Todd doesn’t seem to be holding it against him. If anything he kisses Dirk harder with every sound he makes.

And Dirk’s more preoccupied with trying to get past Todd’s blasted dressing gown. He’s managed to get one hand into the front opening, his wrist across Todd’s chest, but he can’t get any further down or get another hand between them to undo the sash. The best he can do is slip his fingers under the collar of Todd’s shirt and seek bare skin there. The tips of his fingers brush against Todd’s neck, and Todd shivers. In the next moment, Dirk’s thought processes are tossed into disarray as Todd’s tongue enters his mouth.

Oh, _god_. Now there’s a sensation Dirk’s been imagining for months.

Dirk is momentarily glad of the thick fabric of the dressing gown – it gives him something to dig his fingers into as Todd draws yet another stuttering sigh from him with a flick of his tongue. There’s so much to feel that Dirk’s senses short-circuit; he feels stunned, barely able to kiss back. He recovers enough to meet Todd’s tongue with his own and feels Todd tighten his grip, pulling their hips flush and tight against each other. The layers of fabric between them bunch against Dirk’s groin, and the pressure is too much – Dirk abandons all pretence of control and lets out low, desperate moan into Todd’s mouth.

If Dirk had any doubts that Todd liked the noises, they would be quashed by Todd’s reaction to that one; Dirk finds himself jostled around and backwards, and he’s almost confused until his back hits a wall and Todd pins him there with a thrust that rubs Dirk’s towel against his hardening cock.

“Fuck – _Todd_,” Dirk gasps, clutching at Todd’s shoulders.

Todd is panting too, a flush colouring his face – Dirk commits the sight to memory and leans in to press a lingering kiss to Todd’s temple, then another to his cheek, then his jaw …

“O-okay? This is okay?” Todd asks, his head ducked, his breaths tickling Dirk’s neck.

“Yes, god, I – I love you, I love you – I can’t believe …” Dirk feels delightfully feverish, he presses kiss after to kiss to Todd’s jawline, head whirling with every memory of every time he longed to do exactly that. “I can’t believe you love me. But I _can_ believe it. And I can’t believe I didn’t know –”

Todd laughs, “God, neither can I, I thought – I thought it was really obvious …”

“I thought _I_ was obvious, I was so miserable, I thought you didn’t want me –”

“_No_.” Todd lifts his head sharply, looking pained.

“No, I know _now_,” Dirk reassures him. “That’s what I’m saying, it’s – it’s _wonderful_. You do want me and you do love me and I don’t have to hide it anymore and I can …”

He demonstrates by kissing Todd on the lips, and Todd responds immediately, with a depth of feeling that suggests he’s trying to prove just how much he wants Dirk. Dirk sinks gloriously into it for a long moment, but he can’t keep his own feelings of contained for long.

“I wanted this – for so long,” he says, lost in a haze of wild, bursting love, “I wanted to – to be closer to you, I …”

Dirk’s sentence ends in a groan as Todd grinds up into him slowly. Dirk can barely think, yet the words keep pouring out of him recklessly.

“I imagined this – I thought about it so much but it’s – it’s so much … stranger and – better, or just … just _more_ …”

“You keep saying … When you say you think about it, do you mean …?”

Dirk, his eyes closed, his brain pleasantly foggy, doesn’t even hesitate before replying, “While touching myself. Yes. Imagining as in – explicit sexual fantasies.”

“I-in the plural?”

“Enough to fill a small but reasonably dirty book.”

It’s only when Dirk feels Todd pull back that he comes out of his haze enough to fully realise what he just said, and then to think, _Shit – maybe I shouldn’t have said that._

But when he opens his eyes, he doesn’t see disgust or discomfort. All he sees is Todd, a myriad of expressions flitting across his face: gratification, curiosity, the look of someone who can’t believe his luck. All of it breaks into another wonderstruck smile.

Dirk’s heart flutters, and at the same his stomach clenches with warmth. He had thought that was what Todd meant when he said he’d been ‘_thinking’_ about the hotel, but having it confirmed is … “You too?”

Todd nods, though when he opens his mouth he can’t seem to find the words. Instead he presses a kiss to Dirk’s lips, soft and ardent and tender. Then he leans his forehead against Dirk’s and asks, “You imagined us doing this?”

Todd’s lips are so close, but not touching him. It makes Dirk hyperaware of the hairsbreadth between their mouths, enough for his own lips to tingle, as if with untapped electricity.

“This? Not – not exactly.”

“Then what?”

The heat between Dirk’s legs is turning to an ache. Todd is still pinning him in place and it’s wonderful and terrible; there’s too much fabric in the way. Dirk’s starting to think he’s never hated a dressing gown so much. But then again, he’s fairly certain the thickness of the dressing gown is the only thing hiding just how hard he is already, and he has no reference point for if he’s too hard too soon, too embarrassingly ready to go, and he’s too nervous to let Todd find out just yet.

Todd, who correctly guesses that Dirk is in absolute overload but miscalculates the reasons behind it, draws back slightly, releasing some of the pressure. Dirk makes a noise of protest without thinking – but then Todd runs his hands between them, down Dirk’s bare chest and sides, his touch warm and reverent.

“What did you think about, Dirk?” Todd asks him softly.

Dirk tries to focus. “The – the wardrobe. The walk-in one. From the Wedding Society case. We were hiding and you – When we were getting behind those mink coats you pressed up against me. To get past.”

A smile appears in the corner of Todd’s mouth. “I remember.”

“And I kept talking and the maid came in, so you … you grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth. And pulled me back into the coats.”

“You … liked that?”

“Well. At first I was just thinking about not getting caught. And the coats smelled like mothballs. But then … a few minutes went past. And all I could think about was you. Still holding onto me, holding me against you.”

Todd swallows hard, and says again, “I remember.”

“And later … I thought about it again. I thought about – how it could have gone if you just kept holding onto me. If you loved me –”

“I already did,” says Todd quietly, “and I didn’t want to let go.”

His hand traces down from Dirk’s chest to his stomach, dipping lower and lower. Dirk finds it harder and harder to remember what he was saying.

“If I hadn’t let go,” Todd asks, “what would you have wanted? What did you imagine?”

Dirk lets his eyes fall closed. “I imagined … your hands moving – down my body,” he says slowly. “I imagined that you wanted me too. You wanted to touch me. You kept holding me against your chest with one arm, but you – you pulled my shirt loose.”

Todd lets out a harsh breath of air that ghosts across Dirk’s neck and collarbone. He’s starting to press his hips into Dirk’s again, just slightly.

“We had to stay quiet, but … you kissed my neck, just once. And I knew you loved me.” Dirk sighs. “And you slipped your hand under my jeans … and started to touch me.”

Todd makes a faint noise in the back of his throat, half-choked. When Dirk hears it he opens his eyes to see Todd biting his lip. Dirk can’t help it – he grins.

“Want to know more –”

He’s cut off by Todd thrusting into him again, rucking the towel – his gasp is swallowed in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. It doesn’t last long, and Todd ends it quicker than Dirk would like.

“Todd –”

“Your face,” Todd pants, “I would want to see your face – did I turn you around?”

Another flutter in Dirk’s heart, another rush of heat in his stomach.

“You did. You turned me around and pressed me against the wall of the wardrobe. Just like this,” he adds, rolling his own hips for emphasis.

Todd is the one to gasp this time; he leans into Dirk, clinging to his waist.

“And you …” Dirk isn’t entirely sure how to put it. “You …”

He’s considering demonstrating it again, but then Todd – either catching the drift or making a lucky guess – grinds into him again, slowly. This time Todd’s thigh is pressed between Dirk’s legs, and when Dirk recovers enough to think again, he’s impressed by that, considering it was exactly like that in his fantasy.

“A-and then?”

“You started to – You …”

It turns out that speaking is still considerably difficult, but Todd, excellent as always, seems to be one step ahead. He keeps up the pressure between their hips, leans in, and starts to kiss Dirk’s neck. Dirk pushes his head back against the wall, readily baring himself to Todd’s kisses.

“Yes,” he sighs, “that’s what you did …”

Todd leaves a trail of kisses down Dirk’s neck, each one messier the last. Dirk struggles valiantly to stay on track. He’s about to describe the thing that he imagined Todd doing next – but then Todd simply does it, in exact replication, before Dirk can even summon up the words. He kisses his way down to Dirk’s collarbone and begins to suck, his tongue stroking the dip of Dirk’s pulse point.

Dirk has to seize the front of Todd’s dressing gown just to stay fully upright. He almost cries out – it’s possible that he says Todd’s name.

“L-like that,” Dirk manages to get out.

Before Dirk can even explain what he means, Todd is already moving on to the next bit of the fantasy, somehow, without Dirk saying a word; he tilts his head, and then his mouth is on the side of Dirk’s neck, kissing and sucking with intent to leave a mark. Dirk leans into the warmth of Todd’s breath, the slick heat of his tongue, the way his teeth graze against Dirk’s skin. Just as his attentions reach the verge of painful Todd reduces the pressure, leaving Dirk’s skin tingling and sending sparks of arousal down through his gut. Still Todd kisses the spot softly, reassuringly, with the caring tenderness of their first kiss – before he moves up to begin marking another bruise under Dirk’s jaw.

Dirk’s being loud again, he knows, but he can’t hold it in – his entire brain feels like a room full of lightbulbs bursting and blowing. And if he sounds pleading, he can’t help that either. He _needs_ more – more skin on skin contact, more pressure, more friction – he presses himself down against Todd’s thigh and Todd answers by grinding into him again, this time not just once, but again and again, starting a slow, rocking rhythm.

Just like he did in Dirk’s wardrobe fantasy.

“H– How are you _doing_ this?” Dirk bursts out.

Really he’s impressed, and a little incredulous, but Todd stops moving against him, stiffening.

“What?” He releases Dirk abruptly, looking all but terrified. “Did I –”

“No-no-no-no-nooo, please don’t stop!” Dirk tries to pull Todd back in by his stupid dressing gown. “Don’t stop, it’s good, it’s honestly _mind-blowingly_ good – I just meant you’re – you’re doing _exactly_ what I fantasised about. Before I even _tell_ you.”

Todd’s panic gives way to relief, then surprise – and then a slow, almost shy grin. “Really?”

“Who’s being psychic now?” Dirk levels at him.

Todd laughs, “I don’t think that’s it.”

He takes Dirk by the hand and tugs him forwards – Dirk has to clutch at his towel, as their activities thus far have loosened it considerably. That, and the strain of Dirk’s erection, which is now much harder to hide.

But Todd’s eyes are locked on Dirk’s as he says, “I think you just happened to fantasise about the same things I wanted to do with you.”

“That’s … certainly a coincidence,” Dirk says. It’s the smoothest thing he can summon up, because he’s noticed that Todd has moved him around again, is now backing him up towards the bed, and his stomach is beginning to tie itself into knots.

“Don’t you work in those?” Todd says teasingly.

“Don’t you?” Dirk counters.

Todd smiles, and his gaze moves down to the edge of Dirk’s towel, which has dropped dangerously low on Dirk’s hips – and that, of course, is the moment when the back of Dirk’s legs hit the bed and Dirk stumbles, lands on the bed, and his towel catches and slips open.

It’s not for long – a second perhaps, before Dirk covers himself, snatching the loose front back into place – but Todd can’t have failed to see the result of all that kissing and grinding. In fact it’s clear that Todd hasn’t failed to see it. He’s staring down at the towel still, even though two layers of reasonably thick poly-cotton are obscuring the shape underneath.

And where Dirk had only been mildly nervous about Todd finding out before, the look on Todd’s face, frozen and flushed, is making Dirk panic that he’s somehow overestimated the extent of the activities they were planning to get down to in this room. Or that his earlier paranoia about being too fast wasn’t just paranoia, or that he looks weird or disappointing, or wrong –

“Sorry, I’m sorry, did I get this wrong – am I –”

“Shit, Dirk, no …”

Todd, wrenching his eyes up and seeing Dirk’s expression, is immediately alarmed – he clasps Dirk’s face gently in his hands, one knee on the bed to better look him in the eye.

“No, Dirk, _no_. You didn’t get it wrong, you’re not – There’s nothing about you that’s ‘wrong.’ It’s … actually that – um.” Todd’s face turns even redder. “You’re … Y– Do you ever see something so hot your brain just, like, stops working?”

Now Dirk knows how Todd felt a few moments ago. The panicky burning feeling in his chest evaporates like magic, replaced with relief, and a much more pleasant fluttery feeling, if a somewhat surprised one. Dirk’s first instinct is to double-check that Todd _is_ talking about _Dirk_, and not some unknown, unbelievably hot person who’s just walked into the room, only visible to Todd. Dirk’s second instinct is a vague pang of jealousy about the unbelievably hot person who made Todd’s brain stop working – then he remembers that he imagined them and feels even more foolish. And _then_ he remembers that, due to there being no third party, and Todd being transfixed by the sight of Dirk’s … state, the person who was so hot they made Todd’s brain stop working was _him_, _Dirk Gently_.

Needless to say, it’s a few moments before Dirk sorts himself out and comes up with a reply that doesn’t make him sound like an utter prat.

“I’ve seen you, so … Yes. A lot.”

Todd hasn’t moved back. His thumb strokes Dirk’s cheek.

“I’ve … imagined this,” he says, his voice slightly hoarse. His eyes scan Dirk’s face, then flit down his chest and navel, then back up, taking all of him in, as if memorising it all. “But it’s not the same as …”

Todd looks down again, and Dirk studies the shadows cast by his eyelashes against his cheek. “Experiencing it.”

“Yes.”

“… And I’m not going too fast?” Dirk asks, prodded by his own lingering insecurity, the need to be absolutely _sure_ before he plunges to a depth he knows his heart will never be able to return from. “Because if this is too fast you can say so.”

“Dirk …”

“If you want to go on some dates first and then jump into bed together, I promise I _am_ capable of waiting when I put my mind to it, and I _would_ –”

“_Dirk_.” Todd grabs Dirk’s hand and pulls it under the folds of his dressing gown, between his legs.

“… Oh,” Dirk breathes.

Todd’s eyes are shut. There’s a colour in his cheeks and a furrow to his brows that Dirk was never able to fully picture in his fantasies. His breathing hitches as Dirk traces the outline of his cock through his boxers. Todd is hard too, harder than Dirk could have guessed under the various layers of thick fabric between them. Through the thin cotton of Todd’s boxers, Dirk is getting a much clearer picture.

When Todd opens his eyes, his pupils are blown. “This – this is what I want. If it’s what you want too.”

Dirk begins to smile. “I suppose … we did accidentally banish Farah for the whole day. Possibly most of the night. We should probably make the best of it …”

“Y-yes,” Todd agrees slowly, “I mean. That would be …”

“Considerate.”

“Considerate, yeah –” Todd gasps, his hips twitching as Dirk squeezes him through his boxers.

Dirk grins. Todd purses his mouth the way he does when he’s trying to look annoyed enough to suppress his own fondness.

_His love_, Dirk realises. _That’s been love. Not just fondness_.

Todd, giving way to a smile, leans down into a kiss. For a moment they kiss softly, Dirk still stroking Todd through his boxers, just slightly, feeling the weight of him, nervous anticipation in his stomach. Then Todd’s fingers reach for Dirk’s towel, and Dirk stops Todd with his free hand.

“This towel is going nowhere while you’re still wearing that fucking dressing gown.”

Todd blinks at Dirk’s vehemence, half surprised into laughing, “That’s – a lot of anger to direct at a dressing gown.”

“It offends me. Get rid of it.” Experimentally, Dirk runs the knuckle of his forefinger up the underside of Todd’s cock, following the shape through the fabric. Todd’s eyes flutter closed again, his breath catching.

“I – I needed something with pockets to – I wasn’t sure if things were going where I hoped and …”

Todd is clearly having difficulty staying on track, so Dirk stops teasing him. He checks Todd’s pockets instead and finds a small handful of crinkling foil packets. Two are clearly condoms, but the other three are smaller and narrower, almost like sugar packets – except sugar packets generally aren’t labelled ‘lube.’

“I – um. I think the condoms are expired, but …”

“Don’t need them?”

“I’m clean.” Todd laughs, “I mean, I haven’t – It’s been years, trust me, and last time I checked … You?”

Dirk is already throwing the condoms off the side of the bed dismissively, “Perks of being a 36-year-old mostly-virgin. I think we’re good if we stick to non-penetration.” He ignores the sound that Todd makes, which is somewhere between another laugh and a choking noise, and considers the packets of lube. “These, on the other hand …” He looks up at Todd with interest. “What do you have these for?”

Todd has turned red again. “It – They were all in my jean pockets. After Sound Of Nothing.”

That sparks a memory in the back of Dirk’s brain, something tinged with music, and shapes, and colours, and he looks down at the packets again with curiosity.

“I think Tina was just passing them around to everyone,” Todd is saying quickly, clearly trying to laugh it off. “I don’t think I used them – I mean, like, obviously I didn’t use them but I hadn’t, um … I know I didn’t …”

Neither did Dirk, he’s sure. Something about these packets is familiar, though.

But that’s probably a conversation for another day.

“I’ve never … used lube before,” Dirk admits, a little sheepishly.

“It does, um – it does make it feel nicer,” says Todd, “even if we aren’t …”

He says it just as sheepishly, a little bit awkward, but it’s in the same slightly sweet way that just makes Dirk feel like he’s in exactly the right place at the right time. Everything about it feels right. Even the embarrassing parts.

“Well.” Dirk breaks into a grin and eases back, flicking the packets of lube between his fingers. “Excellent assisting, Todd.”

Todd grins back at him and soon they’re kissing again, happy, excited together. Dirk moves back, enough to lie down properly, and Todd follows him, barely breaking the kiss even though they hit the mattress heavily and crookedly, Dirk’s head nearly missing the pillows – and then they do break the kiss to giggle. There’s a few moments of wriggling, laughing, trying to get in the right position so that their ankles aren’t hanging off the bed. When their lips meet again they’re both smiling, and Todd melts against him – and god, Dirk feels Todd’s hipbones, just like he did in the hotel but better, and their legs tangle together just like the hotel but better, and with the now-open dressing gown mostly out of the way, Dirk feels Todd’s erection press against him through the layers of boxers and towel. And in a word, it’s _heavenly_.

The dressing gown is still on though, and Dirk isn’t so consumed with passion as to be too distracted to notice Todd trying to discreetly remove his towel.

“Mmph – uh, uh,” he breaks awat stubbornly. “Get that hideous thing off.”

Todd pulls back with a disbelieving look, “_Seriously_?”

“Yes, seriously, in fact considering my state of undress you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Todd grumbles but complies, getting up to start pulling off his clothes properly.

Dirk knows that watching Todd undress will just be nerve-wracking, so instead he occupies himself with opening one of the packets of lube and spreading it on his hands. Prior to his relatively recent Todd-Related-Sexual-Epiphany, Dirk hasn’t exactly had a roaring libido, and what little experimentations he dabbled in had either not required lube, or – in the case of his more self-directed, functional endeavours – Dirk had simply made do.

The lube is … a little weird, but not bad, and the way it turns from jelly to liquid as he rubs it on his palms is almost fascinating. Dirk has a moment where he realises that he’s lying on his bed almost naked, very hard, and Todd is undressing next to him, and also Dirk is smearing goo on his hands in preparation, and the objective weirdness of it all makes him laugh. Todd, who Dirk can see in his peripheral vision seems to be halfway through pulling off his shirt, laughs too.

“Stop playing with it, just – just ... like …”

“I’m going to, stop nagging – take your clothes off.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Did you imagine me being this romantic, Todd?” Dirk asks jokingly.

Todd doesn’t answer, and Dirk is too nervous to look at him directly. Lying on his back, all Dirk can see are his own hands held up in front of him, then only the ceiling as he drops his hands to his towel. He’s hesitant to take it off just yet, perhaps because he isn’t completely sure how to go about that smoothly. Perhaps because he wants Todd to be the one to do it. Almost certainly a bit of both. Instead he reaches under the front fold, not quite exposing himself as, carefully, and with a small amount of self-consciousness, he strokes the lube down the length of his cock.

It does feel good. Dirk closes his eyes, trying to lean into that feeling, trying not to overthink the sound of Todd’s shirt falling to his bedroom floor. He can feel Todd close by, looking at him, and Dirk tries not to overthink that either. He tries to trust that it’s okay, that what he’s doing is right, that he doesn’t look stupid – no, focus, focus, everything is okay.

_You’re with Todd. You’re with your best friend._

And that soft realisation, like coming home, makes Dirk relax into himself and just enjoy the sensations of his own movements. The solid familiarity of the mattress underneath him, the warmth of his tousled blankets and pillows, and the faint awareness of the way he’s lying splayed on the bed, legs parted, the towel covering him loosened further by the motions of his hand, baring his right hip and side completely now.

There’s an electric pressure in the air as the mattress dips, and Todd’s weight lowers onto the edge of the bed. Dirk keeps his eyes closed.

Todd’s hand takes the edge of Dirk’s towel. “Can I …?”

Dirk doesn’t trust himself to speak steadily; he nods.

He’s still stroking himself when Todd pulls the towel completely open. He hears Todd let out a breath that edges at the end, just slightly, towards a moan. Dirk can’t quite make himself open his eyes, certain that whatever he sees in Todd’s face will, one way or another, take his own breath away. He doesn’t realise he’s stopped moving his hand until he hears Todd’s voice, rough with emotion and the gentlest sound Dirk has ever heard.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

Dirk begins to move his hand again, slowly, up and down. The lube makes it easier to slow down, to savour the heat in his gut as Todd settles over him. Their bare thighs brush against each other and Dirk feels a static thrill raise the hairs on his skin. He can sense Todd watching him, but instead of reawakening Dirk’s nerves it only adds to the ache between his legs, makes it turn to liquid gold …

“Don’t go too fast,” Todd whispers. “I … I want …”

Stirred by the way that Todd’s voice cracks, Dirk feels bolder than he’s ever been. “You want to make me come?”

Todd’s breath catches. Dirk smiles and bites his lip.

When Todd speaks again it’s determinedly steady. “Yes. But I do want to see you now. I – I want to imagine – to know how you would have looked when …”

Dirk opens his eyes. Todd is kneeling over him, his thighs pinning Dirk’s legs down, his eyes skimming up and down Dirk’s body. Dirk sees that Todd’s boxers are still on, which is a little aggravating – but he’s touching himself through them, palming his erection with one hand as he watches Dirk. That’s …

Dirk swallows back a noise that came embarrassingly close to a whimper.

“Dirk,” says Todd, “tell me about another one. Another fantasy – I mean, if there are –”

“There are others,” Dirk confirms. “But take off your boxers first.”

Todd chokes out another almost-laugh, “You – you really just want all my clothes off, don’t you?”

“I thought that was _pretty_ obvious, yes. Boxers. Off.”

Todd smiles, almost evasively. “Tell me another fantasy and I’ll take them off.”

“Alright,” says Dirk heatedly, “here’s a fantasy: I want you here, right now, on top of me, I want you touching me, I want you pressed against me with absolutely nothing in the way.”

Todd groans and his hand tightens on himself reflexively; his hips twitch again, just enough to ruck his boxers, and Dirk sees the head of Todd’s cock push up from his waistband, stretching the elastic. Dirk feels a bead of hot pressure in his throat at the sight, suddenly understanding fully what Todd meant by ‘so hot your brain stops working.’

There’s a long moment where their eyes meet, and Dirk feels so penetrated by Todd’s gaze that Todd may as well be inside him. The heat spreads through his chest, slow but no less voracious. Carefully, Dirk sits up, coming up close to Todd’s face. The air between them feels stretched taut.

“Let me see you.”

Todd shakes his head. “It’s not like that. You …” He smiles wryly, “You’ve been stripping me down layer by layer since the day we met, you can do it again. It’s … If I touch myself, I’m not gonna last long. At all. And I wanted to watch you for longer.”

Dirk’s cheeks are tingling with warmth. “But you can do that any time now.”

Todd looks back at him, his expression caught between entranced and hungry. Dirk moves one hand along the waistband of Todd’s boxers, following first an invisible line of slow-burning tension, then the faint trail of dark hair that leads downwards. Dirk pulls the front of Todd’s boxers down and, as he takes in the full sight of Todd’s erection, he feels the heat between his own legs throb in time with his quickening pulse. Todd’s eyes, meanwhile, have been fixed on Dirk’s face; he holds that gaze until Dirk takes him in one hand, and then he almost goes limp – he stays upright, but his shoulders sag and his head tilts back in silent ecstasy as Dirk slicks his cock with lube.

“I thought about this,” Dirk tells him, his voice low.

He’s well off the edge now, too deep inside this quiet space, existing only for the two of them, to care about sounding stupid or doing something wrong. It’s almost like being under a spell; everything is softly charged, heavy and light at the same time. He strokes Todd slowly, once again savouring the sensations, how precious they feel and how sacred.

Todd’s eyes are closed, his brows knotted as if he’s concentrating very hard, but his body is still so loose, as though the only things tethering him to the earth are Dirk’s hands, between his legs, on his hip. Dirk can feel him trying to speak, trying to ask. He decides to save Todd the trouble.

“I thought of touching you like this so many times, Todd. After so many different cases. During some of them, honestly. I’d lie down at night and think about all the times in the day I’d wanted to kiss you.”

Todd sighs, and it almost sounds sad. Dirk kisses him now, gently, to make up a little for lost time.

“I’d think about how it could have gone differently. All the alleyways we’ve hidden in, all the cars we’ve done stakeouts in. The time we got stuck on that rooftop level in the rain.”

A smile flickers on Todd’s face amidst the dream-hazed arousal. “The time _you_ got us stuck on that rooftop. Farah was convinced we were gonna get pneumonia.”

“Oh, I was always safe. I had you.” He smiles. “And you gave me your coat.”

Todd shivers as Dirk squeezes him, just a little. “Y- You get colder quicker than me.”

“And you’re always so good to me.”

Todd smiles again, a little dryly. “I’m alright.”

“You’re _good_. And I wanted to be good to you too.”

Todd seems to catch on. His face is still slightly upturned, his eyes still closed, but his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You thanked me.”

“But I wanted to _thank_ you,” Dirk says. He leans in to press a kiss to Todd’s neck. “I wanted to kiss you and wrap myself around you. And my hands were cold. I’m sure they would have been warmer under your shirt. Or under your jeans.”

“That’s … Probably …”

“I wanted to keep you warm too. To thank you, obviously,” Dirk clarifies with mock-innocence as he strokes Todd’s dick, still tantalisingly slow, leaning against his own urge to move faster. “I wanted to thank you _very_ thoroughly. I wanted to thank you down on my knees, in fact.”

Todd lets out the least quiet sound yet, though still soft; he grips Dirk’s waist with one hand, the other trying to balance himself. His legs are shaking slightly.

Seeing him like that makes Dirk tremble, it takes every ounce of control just to keep his movements slow and steady, and the words stream from his mouth freely as he quickens the pace of his hand, “God, Todd, I wanted to have your fingers in my hair. I wanted to have you in my mouth. I imagined taking you right to the edge. When I was done you would have pulled me up and kissed the rain from my neck and fucked me against the wall of the entryway –”

“Wait,” Todd begs, strangled – his hand stops Dirk at the wrist tightly, almost painfully. “Y-you have – you have to stop, I’ll …”

Dirk is only momentarily anxious this time, quickly more than a little pleased with himself – or perhaps gratified, or relieved, though really it feels darker than that. It feels like being hungry and satiated at the same time.

He presses another kiss to Todd’s lips. “Darling. We have all day.”

Still Todd shakes his head, and Dirk lets go, taking the opportunity to move back enough to free his legs and lie down. Todd shifts too, moving on shaky knees that all but give way underneath him as he collapses onto the mattress next to Dirk, breathing heavily. For a moment he lays there, eyes shut, but Dirk feels light-headed just looking at him: his head thrown back on the pillows, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cock pinned against his stomach by the elastic of his boxers. There’s a clear drop of precum appearing at the tip.

Dirk has never wanted to touch him so badly. And considering the amount of times Dirk’s wanted to touch Todd, and just how intense some of those times have been, many of them in the last hour, that’s a pretty impressive statement.

“Todd …” Dirk’s hands itch to move, to touch; he fists them in the sheets. “You’re … You look …”

Todd opens his eyes, looks over at him. He’s still catching his breath and making eye contact doesn’t seem to help. Unable to wait any longer, Dirk reaches out, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Todd’s boxers.

“Please take these off. Or let me?”

Todd nods, his eyes on Dirk’s mouth. They move as one, drawn together like magnets, and Dirk pulls Todd’s boxers down, yanking when they catch stubbornly underneath his weight. Todd barely seems to notice; at the same time he’s grasping Dirk by the waist, pulling them closer together. Dirk cries out as his cock slides against Todd’s hip, his fingers – still struggling to rid Todd of his boxers – going limp, then clenching in the fabric.

“Todd … Todd, please …”

It’s not exactly crystal clear, but Todd seems to know exactly what Dirk is trying to say. With a new urgency he strips off the boxers, wriggling enough to kick them off, inadvertently jostling Dirk against him and triggering another soft sound. It’s a sound that quickly turns into another cry as Todd finally presses them together fully, and the last lightbulb in Dirk’s brain is officially blown by the sensation of Todd’s cock rubbing against his.

When Dirk recovers enough to open his eyes, the first thing he sees is Todd, gazing at him as if completely overcome by something unnameable. He’s almost smiling, but there are tears in his eyes.

“Todd?”

“I … _wanted_ _this_,” Todd says, his voice breaking. “I wanted this so badly I didn’t know how to ask for it. I didn’t even know how to handle _wanting_ it. Let alone begin to think or even – even hope that you might … But I should’ve known, shouldn’t’ve I? Because we’re … It’s always – you’ve always been – I mean, you’re amazing …”

Dirk’s throat begins to close up, even as he strokes Todd’s face with all the love he’s ever forced himself to hold back, even as he laughs, “Todd, love, I don’t – What are you trying to say?”

“That we’re, like – I should’ve known you felt the same because you breezed into my life and you – and we … Oh, screw it.”

Having exhausted all attempts at verbally communicating what he means, Todd kisses Dirk forcefully. And suddenly Dirk knows how Todd feels, can taste what it is on his tongue – in his joy and relief and hunger, the same ardent tenderness from before that says ‘_I thought I was alone but I wasn’t, I thought I was wrong but I wasn’t_.’

And Todd’s right. It’s always been like that between them, ever since they met.

Todd kisses Dirk deeply, thoroughly, his hand moving down Dirk’s side. When he draws his hips back Dirk makes a desperate noise into the kiss, but he’s immediately answered by Todd’s hand on him, and oh god, oh-dear-god-oh-_fuck_ …

Dirk rolls his hips, pushing himself harder into Todd’s hand, but Todd has no intention of speeding up. He’s stroking Dirk as slowly as Dirk stroked him, and Dirk can feel him smiling against the kiss. When he breaks away he’s definitely smiling, and he looks down between them with a bitten lip, clearly enjoying the sight of Dirk’s cock in his hand.

Dirk is leaking precum now too, something he only realises as he feels Todd’s thumb swipe it across the head of his dick and down to mingle with the lube. Dirk runs his own hand down between them, underneath Todd’s arm, to caress the base of Todd’s cock. Todd’s breathing hitches again, and his grip tightens on Dirk.

“God, Dirk, I want to make this good for you,” Todd groans, “I’ve thought about it – so much, and I just want to make you feel good …”

“Oh, mission _thoroughly_ accomplished,” Dirk reassures him.

“No, Dirk, I mean … What do you want?” Todd asks him. “What do you want to do? If there’s any specific, anything you need … I want to look after you.”

Dirk’s heart does the thing again, the thrilling-singing thing where it softens and clenches at the same time. “You always look after me. You always give me what I need.”

“But –”

“And you’re already doing it, anyway.”

Confusion puckers Todd’s brow. He glances down at his hand.

“Not that. Well, yes alright, that. But speaking about a specific thing I want …” Dirk rocks into Todd’s hand in a long, slow thrust that pushes Todd’s fingers down the length of his cock until the head presses into Todd’s stomach. He listens to the moan in the back of Todd’s throat, just audible. “I wanted you to want me.”

“Dirk, that’s …” Todd seems to be struggling to catch his breath again, “that’s, like … bare minimum …”

“No, you don’t get it, it’s you – it’s being _wanted by you_, feeling it, knowing it. Really _feeling_ that you _want_ me. That’s what I needed this whole time, because I wanted you.”

“I –”

“I know.” Dirk kisses him. “I feel it.”

He’s always felt it, really. He just didn’t know it for what it was, because he was already immersed in it by the time he was looking for it.

“And in view of that,” Dirk says, “I think it’s my turn to give you what _you_ need.”

He takes Todd’s wrist, moving his hand out from between them. Before Todd can open his mouth, Dirk flips them over, pushing Todd onto his back. As soon as he’s on top, Todd’s legs spread for him, Dirk thrusts his hips in a mimic of the way Todd pinned him against the wall. This time, with no fabric between them, he’s grinding directly into Todd’s groin, their cocks rubbing against each other, side by side – Todd swears and freezes, his hands flying to Dirk’s sides to hold him still.

“D-Dirk …” Todd gives a full-body quiver. “Don’t. Too fast. If you – do that again –”

Dirk kisses Todd’s cheek. “Isn’t that the idea?”

Todd’s fingers dig into Dirk’s hips. His eyes are dark as he looks up at him. “Dirk. I’ve thought about fucking you for months. Trust me, I want to savour the first time I actually get to touch you.”

Dirk tries and mostly fails not to shiver. “A-alright. Fine.” Teasingly, he draws himself up, making as if to move off, “We’ll go slow, if that’s what you want so badly –”

Todd yanks him back down. “Not that slow.”

He holds Dirk against him, in place, unmoving. The pressure between them is torturous. Again Dirk is reminded of their time paralysed on the hotel bed – only there’s no paralysis to this. It’s the mirror opposite; it’s safety and excitement, delicious anticipation. Dirk is half-propped up on his elbows, but enough of his weight is centred on where they meet at the hips that, with them both this sensitive, both coated with lube, any tiny movement will be thoroughly felt. He can feel the rise of Todd’s chest pushing into him with every unsteady breath. And Todd’s skin is so warm.

Dirk’s temple grazes Todd’s cheekbone as he ducks his face into the crook of Todd’s neck, shivering again. “S-slow enough?”

Todd hums, thoughtfully. Then he angles his head just so, and the next thing Dirk knows Todd is kissing his neck again, the slow, wet kind of kiss that sucks and bites. Dirk whimpers this time, wanting desperately to move his hips – but Todd’s hands hold him still, and he’s determined not to be the one to break first.

_Is he trying to _kill_ me?_ Dirk thinks incredulously.

Still, he manages to focus enough to say, softly into Todd’s ear, “Speaking of you – thinking about us fucking.”

He’s rewarded with Todd’s fingers clenching on his hips.

“You said – earlier – that you’d thought about the hotel. What did you think about?”

Todd breaks off the kiss, but his lips barely leave Dirk’s skin, his breath coming short. “I …”

“You thought about how it could have gone? If we could have moved …?”

After a pause, Todd replies unsteadily, “Yes. But Dirk, I’m not – I’m not great at, um …”

“At?”

“You know. Dirty talk.”

“Is that what I’ve been doing?”

“You absolutely know it is.”

Dirk breaks into a grin, “Okay, I do.” More hesitantly he asks, “And I’m …? Good at it?”

Todd almost laughs, his breath sending shivers across Dirk’s neck, chilling the damp spot when his kiss is still marked, “_Yeah_.”

“Oh.” Dirk smiles archly. “So … you’d like me to do it again, then?”

Todd swallows, his fingers flexing in their grip. “Maybe.”

Dirk lifts his head to brush their noses together, “You were asking me so nicely before …”

“I feel like you’re doing all the work. And it’s your first time, I should be –”

“I can tell you what _I_ thought about the hotel.”

Todd goes quiet. Without even looking Dirk can feel the want in Todd, surrounding him like a haze; everything that’s been stoked so far, building and building. Ready to break.

“Let me tell you,” Dirk whispers into the lightest kiss, “let me give you what you need, Todd.”

Todd’s muscles tense underneath him in response, shifting them against each other just slightly as Todd draws in a shuddering breath, pulling Dirk’s weight into him.

“… Tell me.”

Dirk kisses him again, an early reward. Then he begins.

“I was trying so hard not to think about it. I’d already been … well. Thinking about you. But after the hotel it was worse because I _knew_.”

“Knew?” Todd sounds like he already knows the answer.

“How you felt underneath me.”

Todd lets out a shaky sigh as his eyes fall shut once more. There’s recognition in both sigh and expression, an unspoken ‘_I know_.’

“I know we were both – in a state of less than ideal paralysis, which was … It felt awful, but once we were touching …”

“I wanted to hold onto you,” Todd murmurs, his arm wrapping around Dirk’s back. “I wish I could have made you feel safe.”

“You _did_. Just being close to you was enough. But then I had other problems.” Dirk kisses Todd’s jaw. His lips ghost against the skin of Todd’s throat as he tells him, “You felt so good, Todd. Having you underneath me like that … I couldn’t stop thinking about it, afterwards. I tried not to – do anything. But I couldn’t stop thinking. And then I had a dream.”

“Mmm?” Todd’s hand is drifting down Dirk’s lower back.

Dirk forces himself to stay still, but he can’t hold back a faint tremor.

“I … I had a dream,” he says again, concentrating, “that we were in the hotel. Lying like we were. And we couldn’t move, and Farah wasn’t coming to get us, but it was alright. I knew it was alright. I knew you loved me.”

Another soft breath of air from Todd. “I did. I do.”

“And you did hold onto me, as soon as you could. As soon as you started to get movement back. It started in one finger, then one hand. The first thing you did was run your hand down my back, just like …”

Just like Todd is doing now, gentle, almost soothing. Except ‘soothing’ doesn’t really allow for how charged his touch is, or for how much Dirk wants to arch underneath his hand.

“You pulled me closer, and once I could move I …” Dirk cups Todd’s face with one hand, traces the line of his jaw just as he did in his dream. He can remember it so clearly. “I tilted your head back.”

Todd is already baring his neck, and Dirk temporarily abandons his retelling in favour of re-enactment. He buries his face in Todd’s neck, kissing him – rougher than he did in his dream at first, then he forces himself to slow, to match the pace that he remembers, and it all becomes almost unbearable. He imitates Todd’s kisses, moving upwards beneath his jawline, and his tongue finds the pricks of hair where Todd’s beard begins. There’s a vibration in Todd’s throat under Dirk’s open mouth, and Todd tenses underneath him again, almost rising against his hips. Their cocks rub against each other, so slight it’s only torment, and Dirk moans against Todd’s neck.

“Fuck,” Todd swears, so quiet, and then his hand slides down further.

He moves over the curve of Dirk’s ass and grips him tightly, sending a spike of heat into Dirk’s groin – Dirk groans again and momentarily loses control, his kiss turning rough on Todd’s skin. He forces himself to pull back from the edge and after one more swipe of his tongue he lifts his head to see that he’s left a red mark on Todd’s neck.

“You moved me into position,” Dirk says breathlessly, “just like this. I was above you – you looked so beautiful. And you –”

Dirk is unsure whether it’s guesswork, mere coincidence, or simple impatience, but Todd reaches up at that moment and pulls Dirk down roughly by the back of his neck, down into a deep, needy kiss. Dirk makes another noise; Todd presses his mouth open with his tongue and kisses him ravenously. Dirk’s hips jerk reflexively before he can stop himself, but only once before he forces himself to pull back, to re-focus. He takes a deep breath.

Todd wanted slow. He’s going to get the whole story.

Todd seems to be having a harder time re-focusing. His breaths are coming short, his hand still cupping Dirk’s ass, the other gripping Dirk’s hip as if using it to steady himself, to hold himself still.

“What then?” Todd is pleading. “What …”

“I woke up,” Dirk says.

Todd’s brows knot together in what almost looks like despair, but Dirk shushes him, pushing into him just slightly. They’re nowhere near done yet.

“I didn’t stop, Todd. I just had to take over more consciously.”

“You …”

“I threw back the covers. And I started touching myself, imagining what could have happened next.”

Todd’s brows slacken, then furrow again, even as all his muscles go loose the way they did when Dirk first touched him. Dirk feels each muscle ease underneath him exquisitely. Dirk’s never seen Todd so willingly vulnerable. He’s beautiful.

“In all honesty, it wasn’t specific to the hotel, what I was imagining. More just … something that had occurred to me, since then.”

Dirk stretches against Todd, shifting his weight enough to move against him, tease him. He watches Todd’s mouth part in an agonised kind of bliss.

“I thought of having you here underneath me, in this bed. I thought of us kissing and kissing. I imagined that we’d been together for a long time already,” Dirk adds, winding his fingers into Todd’s hair, “that I already knew exactly what to do for you. Exactly what you liked.”

Todd sighs Dirk’s name, pleading, and Dirk kisses him.

“I was so hard already, Todd. Just from one short dream about you. I stroked myself over you, imagining how you’d look …”

At that Todd chokes; now he grips Dirk’s ass with both hands, pulling Dirk down against him at the same time that he arcs up underneath. Dirk’s hands clench in Todd’s hair.

“I let myself think of all of it. Parting your legs. Pressing up between your thighs, just like this, pressing my cock against you …”

Todd swears, shuddering against him, but still Dirk holds back, though his voice is rough and shaking from trying to focus, straining not to give in just yet.

“And then, when I could feel you wanting it – feel you needing it – then I’d push into you.”

Todd’s eyes open – not for long, but for a held moment – and they’re hazy with arousal, barely focused, and yet somehow they cut right to Dirk’s heart with love that feels like a bolt of lightning. It’s so blinding that Dirk wonders how he ever could have missed it.

Todd’s eyes are still open when Dirk finally rolls his hips against him, but they shut tight instantly as Todd gasps. Dirk feels Todd’s cock twitch and for a moment he thinks Todd has come, but then Todd pushes against him again, searching for more friction. Dirk gives it to him; another stroke of their bodies, another gasp-turned-groan, another muttered curse-word.

“I’d fuck you slowly at first, darling,” Dirk tells him, demonstrating with another slow roll of his hips, then another. “I’d fuck you slow and deep, taking my time, taking you in.”

But this isn’t fantasy-Todd, content to take it slow, this is real-Todd, who has already been taking it slow and is now craving release. He pushes up into Dirk, using his grip on Dirk’s ass again to grind Dirk against him, and after one hard thrust Dirk abandons his own attempts at self-control. He rocks into Todd, quickly gaining pace, focusing on giving Todd the pressure that he needs. And still Dirk whispers to him, his words blurring with moans and gasps, half of them muttered into Todd’s lips, his neck, his temple.

“I’d fuck you just how you wanted to be fucked. Just how you needed. I’d thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been so good to me, Todd. You’re – you’re so good at being good to me …” Dirk’s mind is beginning to float, to spin; he can no longer bring the words tumbling from his mouth anywhere into focus but still they come, “You feel so _good_, god …”

Todd’s fingers clench, half under Dirk’s ass, half on his thighs, almost tugging Dirk’s legs further apart. Dirk can’t fuck him right now, not in the way he’s describing, but he’s determined to fuck him in _this_ way – grinding against each other, using his body and his weight to fuck Todd, and Todd pressing up into him, taking it, driving Dirk’s body down with every thrust.

“I love you so much, Todd. I want you to feel that. I need you to. I- I …”

Dirk is truly losing himself too; they slip against each other, Dirk’s cock against Todd’s hip and stomach now, Todd without pressure or friction – until he seizes one of Dirk’s hands and presses it around his cock.

Todd, his voice utterly broken, manages, “I want – you to …”

And Dirk fucks him, hard and fast – he thrusts against Todd’s hip and pumps Todd’s cock with his hand, rough and messy and nothing like the feather-light kiss he presses to Todd’s mouth.

“I- I’ll look after you, Todd,” he gasps as they move together. “I’ll …”

Todd has been loud, but only in his own way – choked noises and harsh breaths, every single one of them heart-achingly beautiful and precious. Now he tenses, suddenly silent, and Dirk could almost miss him coming – but for the pull he feels in his own stomach, like an early echo, and the sharp intake of air that he feels against his mouth, hovering above Todd’s lips right at the moment that they part in orgasm.

Todd spills over Dirk’s hand, but Dirk is too close to his own climax, he can’t bear to stop. He tries to gasp an apology but Todd is kissing him, pulling him impossibly tighter, closer, steadying his hip for Dirk to fuck himself against.

Oh, Dirk is being loud now, he’s being very loud, but he’s only aware of it in as much as a series of vibrations being pulled from his throat, pleasurable in themselves. Todd has his eyes wide open, taking in the sight of Dirk above him like it’s a holy revelation.

“Come for me, Dirk,” he begs softly, quietly. His presence, as always, is all-encompassing, steady even in the heart of the storm. “Let me watch you come.”

And finally, _finally_ – the storm breaks. It tears through Dirk in a rolling wave of sensation, it rages and flashes inside him as Dirk cries out Todd’s name in the midst of an orgasm that rushes over him from the pit of his stomach, up and down at once, rushing to his head and his toes in one sweeping arc. He comes on Todd’s stomach, and Todd lets out a moan louder than Dirk could have expected. Dirk tenses against him in the final jerk of his hips, then slackens, and as the storm inside clears, he realises that Todd’s name is still on his lips, fainter now.

“Dirk …”

Todd’s hands find his shoulders and waist and tug him down onto the mattress next to him, then gather him against his chest. Dirk realises belatedly that he’s trembling, nearly crying with every pent-up emotion from the last few months. Todd is solid and warm, but he clings to Dirk just as tightly and his kiss is just as fervent.

“I love you,” Todd pants into his skin, “I love you, Dirk.”

“I – I know,” Dirk says, voice still unsteady. “I love you too … oh – oh my _god_ …”

He laughs shakily, the aftershocks of his orgasm still lingering. Todd laughs too, then shivers into their embrace and pulls Dirk closer with a tell-tale sniff.

Dirk looks up properly and jolts at the sight of tears in Todd’s eyes. “What? No, no don’t cry!”

Todd gives a wet laugh, “You’re nearly crying too!”

“I mean …!” Dirk gestures pointlessly, sniffing. “Yes, alright! Maybe we’re both a mess!”

Todd laughs harder, one tear spilling over his cheek. There’s no anxiety to it at all – Dirk can tell Todd is half-crying for the same reason he is. They’re both too full of love and incandescent happiness, mingling with the rush of orgasm and release.

It does feel like a release, in every sense of the word. The storm which has been haunting Dirk for months has cleared into a sky so blue that Dirk can barely take in its expanse all at once. Of course, it’ll be back in a different form. A more manageable, normal, and enjoyable one. Something more like the rain that makes the world spring into life and leaves rejuvenation in its wake.

And yes, for other reasons, there will probably be other storms. In Dirk’s experience life tends to be full of them. But this one is over in its most terrible capacities – the horrible suspended feeling is vanquished.

Now there’s just Todd, his Todd, looking at him like Dirk is his whole world.

“We should … probably clean up,” Todd points out. Practicality doesn’t really work for him while he’s still bright-eyed with love-tears and he’s smiling like that, but it’s charming that he makes an effort to return them to their usual equilibrium. “It’d be a bit more comfortable.”

Then again, Dirk can’t stop smiling himself, so who’s he to talk.

“Dirk?”

“Right! Yes! Um …”

Dirk sits up and manages to conjure up a packet of tissues from his bedside drawer. It’s one of the little plastic packs that Farah carries around in her bag and Dirk sometimes ‘borrows.’ Dirk makes a mental note to thank Farah for her various strictly-non-present contributions to the day, in as non-specific a manner as possible.

As they do a quick, cursory clean-up, Dirk eyes Todd, feeling irrationally shy. Now that they’re no longer deep in that intimate shared space, he’s suddenly very aware of some of the things he admitted to, nay, described in vivid detail.

After a moment, he shakes up the courage to ask. “Was it … okay?”

Todd looks up at him with a smile that makes Dirk’s stomach go _woosh_. “Yeah.”

“… Really?”

“_Yes_. God, that was …” Todd shakes his head as he balls up the used tissues, then laughs. “You remember when we met, you said something about me having a boring sex life?”

Not a conversational turn Dirk was expecting, and _no_, he does _not_ remember that at all. His smile freezes.

“I what?” he says in mortification.

Todd just laughs, “You did, you said I looked like I had boring, boring sex.”

Oh. That sounds exactly like something Dirk would say while hyped up on home invasion and potential much-longed-for assistants.

“I didn’t _know_ I was going to fall in love with you!”

“Dirk –”

“Let alone have sex –”

“It was the opposite of that,” Todd cuts over him calmly.

Dirk stops wracking his own nerves. “… Our … sex?”

“Yeah.” Todd smiles slowly and warmly. “Making love. Fucking. It was …”

“Good?”

“Mind-blowingly good, I think you said earlier.”

Now Todd’s smile is making Dirk’s stomach go _woosh_ repeatedly, which is practically indecent of it considering their very recent activities.

“Oh. That’s …”

Todd glances at Dirk’s pleased smile in a very distracting way, then grins. “You’re like, at least 60% dirtier than I thought you’d be.”

“No, no – Todd, you’re mistaken,” Dirk says, gathering himself up smugly, “I’m asexual, don’t you know we’re all vanilla in the sack, so I can’t _possibly_ have been dirty, 60% or otherwise, because I’m an innocent little –”

Todd throws the ball of tissues at him. Dirk dodges them, having already anticipated a missile, but Todd has stopped, frowning at thin air.

“Todd? Is this the asexual thing again because I swear I very, _very_ much wanted to fuck you –”

“No, it’s …” Todd opens and shuts his mouth, an odd expression on his face. “Um.”

Dirk watches his face turn faintly red, with gathering anxiety. “… Todd?”

“Okay, so I couldn’t say anything at the time, and I was really into it, and it’s fine …”

“Oh god.”

“No, no – it’s _fine_, it’s um – I – It’s actually kinda hot, but um …” Todd winces. “The fantasy. The last one you talked about?”

“… Yes …?” says Dirk, bracing himself.

“It’s – exactly what I thought about.”

Dirk squints in confusion. “… Wh –”

“The last time I …” Todd stammers. “About the hotel. That’s. That’s what I thought about too.”

“You mean …?”

“We – we had exactly the same fantasy.” Todd reddens further. “Like. Shot for – Detail for detail.”

“… Oh.” Dirk mulls this over. Then he smiles brightly, straightening up. “Neat!”

Todd stares at him. “… _Neat_?!”

“I think it’s …”

“We had the _same exact fantasy_!” Todd exclaims. “_Independently_! Right down to the hand movements!”

“Well, it is, I admit, probably the most _literally_ _sexy_ co-inky-dink that I’ve ever encountered,” Dirk shrugs blithely, “but it’s hardly truly freakish …”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m – No, actually, I’m upset,” Todd says, while not looking remotely upset, annoyed, or generally anything other than stupidly happy.

Dirk smiles at him. “I think it’s romantic.”

Todd scoffs, “You would think that.”

It’s one of the most unconvincing Todd-scoffs Dirk has ever witnessed. Dirk flops down onto the mattress, grinning to himself.

“I also had a fantasy that you would spoon me after sex,” he says over his shoulder.

Todd mutters something about asshole detectives who think they can order people about, but by the time the grumble ends he has both arms wrapped around Dirk and his head is nestled against Dirk’s shoulders.

Dirk sinks into his embrace, just enjoying being held, feeling the smile that Todd tries to hide against his back, then the tiny kiss he presses between Dirk’s shoulder-blades. Dirk interlocks their hands over his stomach with a contented noise, and Todd’s thumb strokes against his hand, apparently without conscious thought.

After a long, blissful moment, Dirk remembers something and grins.

“And in my fantasy,” he declares, “on a _wild_ coincidence, there were also fresh muffins out on the kitchen table …”

Todd groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're finally done! Thanks so much to everyone who left reviews. As you can see the conclusion of the last "chapter" ended up becoming two monstrous chapters, which is part of the reason there was a hiatus. Really though, I'm very grateful and a little impressed that we didn't get a single entitled/rude comment and just a lot of really nice ones that let us know people were still thinking about the fic without making us feel pressured. You guys were super patient and lovely. <3
> 
> I've moved my explicit/mature fics to this account and in doing so will probably go through and delete my old replies. Just trying to separate my accounts more, but obviously it's still me. My tumblr is now [here](https://glasgowbones.tumblr.com)!

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr.](https://gallantrejoinder.tumblr.com/) \- gallantrejoinder
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed!!


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